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Buchan, John, 1875-1940

"The Half-Hearted"

The ways were blocked, a slim figure was ever in view, and lo!
when he blotted it from his sight the world was dark and the roads
blind. For a moment he had lost his bearings on the sea of life. As
yet the discomfiture was sweet, his confusion was a joy; and it is the
first trace of weakness which we have seen in the man that he accepted
the unsatisfactory with composure.
At the door of Etterick it became apparent that something was astir.
Wheel-marks were clear in the gravel, and the ancient butler had an air
of ceremony. "Mr. Wratislaw has arrived, sir," he whispered to Lewis,
whereat that young man's face shone.
"When? How? Where is he now?" he cried, and with a word to his
companions he had crossed the hall, raced down a lengthy passage, and
flung open the door of his sanctum. There, sure enough, were the broad
shoulders of Wratislaw bending among the books.
"Lord bless me, Tommy, what extraordinary surprise visit is this? I
thought you would be over your ears in work. We are tremendously
pleased to see you."
The sharp blue eyes had been scanning the other's frank sunburnt face
with an air of affectionate consideration. "I got off somehow or other,
as I had to see you, old man, so I thought I would try this place first.
What a fortressed wilderness you live in! I got out at Gledsmuir after
travelling some dreary miles in a train which stopped at every farm, and
then I had to wait an hour till the solitary dogcart of the inn
returned.


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