Explore "Lady Kilpatrick" by Robert W. Buchanan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The shades of evening were beginning to envelop the landscape as Peebles made his slow and toilsome way towards Blake's Hall. The old man had been in a ferment of excitement all day long, and nothing but his long years of habit as chief officer and general director of Lord Kilpatrick's household had sufficed to hold him back from fulfilling his momently recurring desire to throw his duties to the winds for that day, and at once proceed to put to Blake the question dictated to him by Moya Macartney. His discomposure had not escaped the notice of his master, who, since the shock occasioned by Desmond's renunciation of him and his abrupt departure from the house, had kept his room, and had resented all approaches, even that of his favourite Dulcie, with an exaggeration of his usual snappish ill-temper.
‘What the deuce are you dreaming about, Peebles? ' he had asked, as the old servitor made some slight blunder in the service at his master's solitary dinner-table.