"Hallo, Harrington, how are you?" said Vancouver, overtaking John as he
turned into the road. "You had better get in with me and drive out. I have
not seen you for an age."
John stood still and surveyed Vancouver with a curiously calm air of
absolute superiority.
"Thank you very much," he answered civilly. "I have hired a carriage to
take me there. I dare say we shall meet. Good-morning."
John had been to Sherwood some years before, but he was surprised at the
change that had been wrought in honor of the marriage. The place looked
inhabited, the windows were all open, and the paths had been weeded,
though Sybil had not allowed the wild shrubbery to be pruned nor the box
hedges to be trimmed. She loved the pathless confusion of the old grounds,
and most of all she loved the dilapidated summer-house.
John shook hands with many people that he knew. Mrs. Wyndham led him aside
a little way.
"Is it not just perfectly splendid?" she exclaimed. "They are so exactly
suited to each other.
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