CHAPTER XIX

There was an early breakfast the next day, for John’s train left Melville at a little before eight. He had begged that Margaret would not come down to see him off and she had answered with a noncommittal smile. But when he entered the lamplighted dining-room she was already seated behind the shimmering urn, fresh and bright. A big fire roared and crackled in the chimney place, for the morning was cold and lowering, and the scene was so warm and cozy and homelike that John was sorely tempted to invent some desperate…