. . Her father was distinctly irascible, and disposed more than ever to hide away among the petrological things—the study was turned out. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. The knight stood upon his defence; but he would unquestionably have been torn in pieces by the savage hounds, if a shower of oaths, seconded by a vigorous application of kicks and blows from their master, had not driven them growling off. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out.
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