CHAPTER VIII.
"Your ancestral home," Mr.Mangan observed, as the car turned the first bend in the grass-grown avenue and Dominey Hall came into sight.

"Damned fine house, too!" His companion made no reply.

A storm had come up during the last few minutes, and, as though he felt the cold, he had dragged his hat over his eyes and turned his coat collar up to his ears.

The house, with its great double front, was now clearly visible--the time-worn, Elizabethan, red brick outline that faced the park southwards, and the stone-supported, grim and weather-stained back which confronted the marshes and the sea.

Mr.Mangan continued to make amiable conversation.
"We have kept the old place weathertight, somehow or other," he said, "and I don't think you'll miss the timber much.