If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am."
Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now.
It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the
pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the
beautiful garden, the pleasant company--all these things combined to
make this sojourn an epoch in his life.
He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly
on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to
show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and
tired.
A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only
crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr.
Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the
city, but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county
cricket, and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire.
But even this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson,
the groom, who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an
errand, had promised to bring one back with him. He might appear at any
moment now.
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