He whistled as he walked; his shooting recovered; and by the time the dark fell, keepers and beaters were once more his friends.
The fact was that just as he missed the pheasant he had taken his resolution, and seen his way.

He would have another determined hunt for that letter; he would also find and destroy his own letters to Chloe--those she had returned to him--which must certainly never fall into Daphne's hands; and then he would go away to London or the North, to some place whence he could write both to Chloe Fairmile and to his wife.

Women like Daphne were too quick; they could get out a dozen words to your one; but give a man time, and he could express himself.

And, therewith, a great tenderness and compunction in this man's heart, and a steady determination to put things right.

For was not Daphne Beatty's mother?
and was he not in truth very fond of her, if only she would let him be?
Now then for the hunt.