It was
Dick's pistol that was loaded. Dick had meant to murder him. By the
grace of God the pistol had missed fire. But Dick, his own brother, had
meant to murder him. An hour later he walked out of the room, the case
of pistols under his arm, with the drawn face of an old man.
It was not until Dick had stumbled five or six miles through the
drenching downpour that the thought reached his dulled brain that he had
left the pistols loose for anyone to examine. The thought was like a
great stone hitting him on the side of the head. He turned and began to
run homewards, like a hunted man in desperate flight.
CHAPTER V
A CRISIS
Viviette having repaired the disorder caused by her tears went down to
tea. Mrs. Ware, Katherine, and a curate deliberately calling or taking
shelter from the rain were in the drawing-room. Austin, to his mother's
mild astonishment, had sent down a message to the effect that he was
busy. On ordinary occasions Viviette would have flirted monstrously with
the clerical youth, and sent him away undecided whether to offer to
share his lodgings and hundred pounds a year with her, or to turn
Catholic and become a monk.
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