It was Constantia's doing, belike: but he had become again
in appearance the Jack Foe of old times--a trifle more seamed in the
face but with a straightness and uprightness of carriage that
rejuvenated him. His clothes, too, were of the old cut, modestly
distinguished.
"Collingwood too?" said he, nodding easily. "That's better than I
looked for. . . . You have told them?" he asked Constantia with a
frank look of understanding. Then his eyes wandered, naturally, over
the disorder in the room.
"Roddy is packing," said Constantia.
"For South America," said I.
"And after that? Yes, you needn't tell," he went on with an ease
which I could only admire. "It's the island, of course--I had your
note and was going to answer it, but Miss Denistoun--Constantia--
insisted that I should call round and tell you. The latitude is--"
"One moment," interrupted Jimmy. "You let the door slam behind you,
Professor: and your dog is protesting."
"My dog?" Foe turned about, as Jimmy stepped to the passage. "What
are you talking about, Collingwood? I don't own such a thing.
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