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And Tilly nodded, dumpily �� again unlike herself.

* * * * *

��Is John ill?��

Chapter X

��Still we can say, Richard, can��t we, we��ve seen all there is to be seen?�� threw in Mary with a kind of cheerful inattention. Risen meanwhile from the breakfast-table, she had opened the door of the chiffonier; and her thoughts were now divided between Richard��s words and the fresh depredations in her store of provisions that had taken place overnight.

At breakfast-time he emerged pale and peevish, to a day that proved hardly less wearing than the night had been. One, too, that called for a clear brain and prompt decisions. For the owner of Darumbooli, Baillie by name, put in an appearance as arranged �� an elderly Scot, tanned, sun-wrinkled, grey-whiskered, with a bluff yet urbane manner �� a self-made man, it was plain, and wholly unlettered, but frank, generous, honourable: one of nature��s gentlemen, in short, and of a type Mahony invariably found it easy to do business with. Better still, he turned out to be one of your genuine garden-lovers: as the pair of them walked the grounds of ��Ultima Thule,�� none of the details and improvements Mahony felt proudest of but was observed and bespoken: the white-strawberry bed, the oleander grove, the fernery, the exquisitely smooth buffalo-grass lawns on which sprays were kept playing. A good garden was, it seemed, a desideratum with Baillie. And he fell in love with Mahony��s at first sight.