"It is a likeness which deceives you," he declared.
"A likeness!" the other repeated. "Nine weeks ago I stood in a ruined
mansion--so dilapidated, in fact, that one corner of it is open to the
skies. I listened to the roar of the Atlantic as I heard it in the same
place fifty years ago. A herdsman and his wife, perhaps a girl or two, live
somewhere in the back quarters. The only apartment in any sort of
preservation is the one sometimes called the picture gallery and sometimes
the banqueting hall. You should visit this ruined mansion, sir. You should
visit it before you give me the lie when I call you Sir Denis Cathley."
Jocelyn Thew's hand for a moment shielded part of his face, as though he
found the electric light a little strong. From behind the shelter of his
palm his eyes met the eyes of his visitor. The latter suddenly turned and
bowed to Katharine.
"You will forgive an old man," he begged courteously, "who has seen much
trouble lately, for his ill manners. Perhaps your friend here, your friend
whose name is not Sir Denis Cathley, can explain to you why I felt some
emotion at the sight of so wonderful a likeness."
He bowed, murmured some broken words in reply to Katharine's kindly little
speech, and moved away.
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