[Southeast] Worries of my own; but I'm relieved, you think the Rivers boy is al

[Grabel Fortman]

Ous." He stopped short as if someone had struck him. After all, he
didn't go to the nursery; she heard him go down the passage to the
smoking-room instead. CHAPTER VIII Sir Peter was having his annual
attack of gout. Staines Court appeared at these times like a ship
battened down and running before a storm. Figures of pale and frightened
maids flickered through the long passage-ways. The portly butler
violently ejected from the dining-room had been seen passing swiftly
through the hall, with the ungainly movement of a prehistoric animal
startled from its lair. The room in which Sir Peter sat burned with his
language. Eddies of blasphemous sound rushed out and buffeted the
landings like a rising gale. Sir Peter sat in a big arm chair in the
center of the room. His figure gave the impression of a fortressed
island in the middle of an empty sea. His foot was rolled in bandages
and placed on a low stool before him; within reach of his hand was a
knobbed blackthorn stick, a bell and a copy of the "Times" newspaper.
Fortunately Lady Staines was impervious to sound and acclimatized to
fury. When Si