I don't think dear Reginald will be pleased to see his friend at
dinner. If any of the spoons are missing I shall hold you responsible."
Chris went off to her room well pleased with the turn of events.
Brilliant audacity had succeeded where timid policy might have resulted
in dismal failure. And Littimer had refrained from asking any awkward
questions. From the window she could see Bell and Merritt walking up and
down the terrace, the latter talking volubly and worrying at a big cigar
as a dog might nuzzle at a bone. Chris saw Littimer join the other two
presently and fall in with their conversation. His laugh came to the
girl's ear more than once. It was quite evident that the eccentric
nobleman was enjoying the ex-convict's society. But Littimer had never
been fettered by conventional rules.
The dog-cart came up presently and Henson got out. He had an anxious,
worried look; there was an ugly frown between his brows. He contrived to
be polite as Chris emerged. He wanted to know where Littimer was.
"On the terrace, I fancy," Chris said, demurely. "I guess he is having a
long chat with that parson friend of yours--the brand plucked from the
burning, you know.
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