When a Scotchman begins to tell you who he is, take my advice
and sheer off."
"I will," said Tony.
"And when a Scotchman begins to tell you what he has, you may be sure
that he wants something more. I smelt a rat at once. And I would not
speak to him for the rest of the evening, or if I did, I spoke with a
Scotch accent--just a suspeecion of an accent, you know--nothing to get
hold of, but just enough to let him know that his Auchen-something
would not go down with me."
She spoke with a sort of inconsequent earnestness, a relic of the
school-days she had so lately left behind. She did not seem to have had
time to decide yet whether life was a rattling farce or a matter of
deadly earnest. And who shall blame her, remembering that older heads
than hers are no clearer on that point?
On approaching the red villa by its short entrance drive of yellow
gravel, they perceived Mr. Wade slowly walking in his garden. The
garden of "The Brambles" was exactly the sort of garden one would
expect to find attached to a house of that name. It was chiefly
conspicuous for its lack of brambles, or indeed of any vegetable of
such disorderly habit. Yellow gravel walks intersected smooth lawns.
April having drawn almost to its close, there were thin red lines of
tulips standing at attention all along the flowery borders. Not a stalk
was out of place. One suspected that the flowers had been drilled by a
martinet of a gardener.
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