The moon was cloudy, and the temperature low.

But the scents of summer were already in the air--of grass and young leaf, and the first lilac.

The old grey house with its haphazard outline and ugly detail acquired a certain dignity from the night, and round it stretched dim slopes of pasture, with oaks rising here and there from bands of white mist.
"Is that tale true you told me before dinner about Jim Donald ?" said Lord Buntingford abruptly.

"You're sure it's true--honour bright ?" The other laughed.
"Why, I had it from Jim himself!" He laughed.

"He just made a joke of it.
But he is a mean skunk! I've found out since that he wanted to buy Preston out for the part Preston had taken in another affair.