‘Wait Till You Hear from Me.’
It was a little more than a week after Judith Conisbrough’s return, a sultry afternoon at the end of July. At Scar Foot all was quiet, except the rooks which wheeled and cawed noisily in the trees. The windows were all open, now that the sun had left the house, after being closed all morning, with the blinds down, to keep the said sun out. In the dining-room the luncheon-table was spread, with Aglionby and Mrs. Bryce at the head and foot of it, and Randulf, as guest, at one side.