He did not speak much during the walk, and was evidently wrapped in
deep thought.
Cornish was light and inconsequent as usual. "We shall soon raise
more money," he said. "We shall have malgamite balls, and malgamite
bazaars, malgamite balloon ascents if that is not flying too high."
The Villa des Dunes stands, as its name implies, among the sand hills,
facing south and west. It is upon an elevation, and therefore enjoys a
view of the sea, and, inland, of the spires of The Hague. The garden is
an old one, and there are quiet nooks in it where the trees have grown
to a quite respectable stature. Holland is so essentially a tidy
country that nothing old or moss-grown is tolerated. One wonders where
all the rubbish of the centuries has been hidden; for all the ruins
have been decently cleared away and cities that teem with historical
interest seem, with a few exceptions, to have been built last year. The
garden of the Villa des Dunes was therefore more remarkable for
cleanliness than luxuriance. The house itself was uninteresting, and
resembled a thousand others on the coast in that it was more
comfortable than it looked. A suggestion of warmth and lamp-light
filtered through the drawn curtains.
Roden led the way into the house, admitting himself with a latch-key.
"Dorothy," he cried, as soon as the door was closed behind them--the
two tall men in their heavy coats almost filled the little
hall--"Dorothy, where are you?"
The atmosphere of the house--that subtle odour which is characteristic
of all dwellings--was pleasant.
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