Old Bill Tarpey, who lost his three boys in a forest fire over
on the San Hedrin, passed out last week. The Tarpey boys died in the
Cardigan employ, and so your father gave Bill the use of a farm out
near Freshwater."
"Well, you'd better be his successor, Sinclair. You're no longer a
young man, and you've been thirty years in this office. Play safe,
Sinclair, and include yourself in one of those life-leases."
"My dear boy--"
"Nonsense! United we stand, divided we fall, Sinclair; and let there
be no moaning of the bar when a Cardigan puts out to sea."
Smiling, he rose from his desk, patted the bewildered Sinclair on the
latter's grizzled head, and then reached for his hat. "I'm dining out
to-night, Sinclair, and I wouldn't be a kill-joy at the feast, for a
ripe peach. Your confounded figures might make me gloomy; so we'll
just reserve discussion of them till to-morrow morning. Be a sport,
Sinclair, and for once in your life beat the six o'clock whistle. In
other words, I suggest that you go home and rest for once."
He left Sinclair staring at him rather stupidly.
CHAPTER XIII
Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into the
Pennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due
ceremony. Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly
fingering the keys and greeted him with every appearance of pleasure
--following which, she turned to present her visitor to Colonel
Pennington, who was standing in his favourite position with his back
to the fireplace.
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