"That dog you let Mr.Siward have is a good one.

I'm taking him to Jersey next week for the cock-shooting." Sylvia returned her calm gaze blankly.
An unreasonable and disagreeable shock had passed through her.
"My North Carolina pointers are useless for close work," observed Marion indifferently; and she leaned back, watching the blue smoke curling upward from her cigarette.
Sylvia, distrait, but with downcast eyes on fire under the fringed lids, was thinking of the cheque Siward had given her for Sagamore.

The transaction, for her, had been a business one on the surface only.

She had never meant to use the cheque.

She had laid it away among a few letters, relics, pleasant souvenirs of the summer.