He had
glanced at me as he came in, but without any gleam of recognition
in his face. Now he glanced again, as I fancied, somewhat doubtfully.
When he did so for the third or fourth time I ventured to address
him.
"Mr. John Dwerrihouse, I think?"
"That is my name," he replied.
"I had the pleasure of meeting you at Dumbleton about three years
ago."
Mr. Dwerrihouse bowed.
"I thought I knew your face," he said; "but your name, I regret to
say--"
"Langford--William Langford. I have known Jonathan Jelf since
we were boys together at Merchant Taylor's, and I generally spend
a few weeks at Dumbleton in the shooting season. I suppose we are
bound for the same destination?"
"Not if you are on your way to the manor," he replied. "I am
travelling upon business,--rather troublesome business too,--while
you, doubtless, have only pleasure in view."
"Just so. I am in the habit of looking forward to this visit as to
the brightest three weeks in all the year."
"It is a pleasant house," said Mr. Dwerrihouse.
"The pleasantest I know."
"And Jelf is thoroughly hospitable."
"The best and kindest fellow in the world!"
"They have invited me to spend Christmas week with them," pursued
Mr.
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