“This is where I belong,” he thought.
The sight of dogs by the stables dissuaded him from further progress; then, departing, he said good-by so tenderly to the gardener that the man tipped his cap.
After his adopted name his next lucky break was to meet the Mortmains, riding out on the train from New York four days later. They were across the aisle, and he waited. Presently the opportunity came, and, leaning toward them, he proffered with just the right smile of amusement:
“Excuse me, but the tennis court is weeded, but there’s no water in the pool—or wasn’t Monday.”
They were startled—that was inevitable; one couldn’t crash right in on people without tearing a little bit of diaphanous material, but Val stepped so fast that after a few minutes he was really inside.
“——simply happened
