He had had an excellent lunch; his pipe was drawing well,
and all Nature smiled. The breeze from the sea across the meadows,
tickled pleasantly the back of his head, and sang a soothing song in
the long grass and ragged-robins at his feet. He was looking forward
with a roseate glow of anticipation to the moment when the white
flutter of Billie's dress would break the green of the foreground. How
eagerly he would jump from the gate! How lovingly he would....
The elegant figure of Webster interrupted his reverie. Sam had never
seen Webster before, and it was with no pleasure that he saw him now. He
had come to regard this lane as his own property, and he resented
trespassers. He tucked his legs under him, and scowled at Webster under
the brim of his hat.
The valet advanced towards him with the air of an affable executioner
stepping daintily to the block.
"Mr. Marlowe, sir?" he enquired politely.
Sam was startled. He could make nothing of this.
"Eh? What?"
"Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr.
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