Sometimes his mood was gentler. ‘If she did throw me over it wasn’t for any other fellow, she always had odd ideas. It was because she was clever. I never cared for any girl as I did for her. By Jove, I think I’d sooner marry her than any one else. I wish she hadn’t spent all her money on that damned socialistic paper.’
At the thought of the paper Alfred’s face clouded, and he remembered that Harold had gone into the house to get him a cigar: he was longing for a smoke. Mildred was standing at a little distance talking to a group of players who had just finished a set, and he was about to ask her where her brother was, when he thought he would go and look for Harold himself.
He passed up the lawn and entered the house by one of the bow windows. He examined the pictures in the drawing-roo
