But I did not see any one at all resembling him.
And presently we were in the train and had a carriage to our two selves;
and when the train had started my godmother took out of her handbag my
grandmother's letter.
"I am going to let you read this, Bawn," she said, "for I think you are
of an age now to be taken into our difficulties. I confess it puzzles
me."
CHAPTER XIX
THE CRYING IN THE NIGHT
"My dearest daughter," the letter began; it was so my grandmother always
addressed Mary Champion. "We are pleased with the fine accounts of how
Bawn is enjoying herself and your gaieties and the old friends you have
met. The house is very lonely without Bawn, and I miss your coming, and
there has been no letter from Theobald since you went. Perhaps Bawn has
had one. We seem to realize that we are old and our children dead and
their children away from us, all at once."
The letter went on to talk of trivial and ordinary things, but my
grandmother was bad at deception, and one felt that her thoughts were
not in the things she told, but that they were written with an intention
to conceal something. And at last the thin deception gave way.
"Mr. Dawson has been to see Lord St.
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