the unexpected problems of his situation.
The new graveness of what he was pledged to do had, of course, been
strongly present in his mind from the first moment of revelation.
Kidnapping a nineteen-year-old girl was certainly, as Peter had pointed
out, a pretty serious business. He perceived that it would not look well
in the papers in the least. Also if she cared to raise a row
afterwards, there might be an aftermath which would not be wholly a
laughing matter.
Nevertheless, this side of the question seemed remote and of minor
interest to him just now. The problem appeared to be a personal one, not
a question of statutes and judges. In his talk with Miss Carstairs
before he knew her by name, he had failed to notice anything that
suggested the spoiled and wilful child he had come to find. He could
remember nothing she had said or done that helped him at all to think of
her as his enemy. The fact was that it was all quite the other way. And
this helped him to understand now, as he had not understood before, why
Uncle Elbert had begged a solemn oath from him with such a piteous look
on his handsome, haggard old face.
CHAPTER IX
VARNEY MEETS WITH A GALLING REBUFF, WHILE PETER GOES MARCHING ON
Peter's pronounced views as to Mr. Stanhope were not, it appeared,
purely of the stuff that dreams are made of. Testimony to the author's
lack of popularity in his native town came to Varney with unexpected
promptness.
In the corner of the square, as he swung along toward the Academy
Theatre that evening, he found himself suddenly confronted by a man who,
lounging against the fence of a shabby dwelling, straightened
dramatically at his approach and bent a sharp gaze upon him. He was a
tall, shambling fellow with a white cloth swathed about the top of his
head; and Varney, in the act of passing, suddenly recognized him as the
dog man, whom Peter had knocked out the night before. His gaze was a
wanton challenge for the young man to stop, and Varney cheerfully
accepted it.
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