Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. It was a mass of knick-knacks. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. They are arbitrary and unjust and dogmatic and brutish and lustful. ‘And so also have I. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. Both had lived rather quietly until a scandal had opened up a can of worms for the son, allegations of child abduction, reported sightings of a white van around nearby elementary schools.
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