This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1904 Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XXI THE REBOUND The dinner problem he solved in a word. Mr. Cavendish was difficult to entrap with favors, and, since the night of the wedding, Drake had not been able to secure him as a guest. But to-night the clergyman seemed to have dropped consciousness of thine and mine. Drake led the way, without comment, to the dining-room of one of the largest hotels. The clear day, with its cold, brilliant sunshine and far-away sky, was dying, and as Drake and Mr. Cavendish stepped into the hotel they left behind a crisp dusk, filled with sharply-drawn shadows and the suggestion of wind-purified spaces. They entered a different world; it was the languor of a tropic garden as against a snowland twilight. The long room was graciously lighted, for butterfly-hued shades cheated the electricity of its glare; behind the palms an orchestra played not too loudly, and the spicy heaviness of carnations was in the air. The thick carpet padded footfalls into silence, but the swish of draperies and the hum of talk blended in an individual note--one voice, low pitched and monotonous, but soothing. Drake selected a table at the side of the room, and gave his order. He hurriedly pushed the wine card out of sight, but the dinner he planned with epicurean completeness. He was hungry, and he had lived for a long time on plain fare. And all this time Mr. Cavendish did not speak. Yet there was nothing morose in his silence. He looked tired, but at peace. He showed the relaxation of a long strain, and the warmth, the perfume, and the music were all doing their share to woo him to an intoxicating content. But he could not eat. He looked at the dishes with unconsciously expressed distaste, and resumed his study of the room. Drake grew concerned, and pushed his own plate aside. He ...