Deficient Saints by Marshall Saunders — Read

Mr. Huntington, after leaving the Mercer mansion, stood for a minute on the sidewalk, in deepest thought. He turned his face toward his own house, then, looking in the direction of the up-river suburbs of the town, he turned his head back again, like one drawn two ways, and, finally coming to a decision, hailed a passing car, and was whirled rapidly in the direction his thoughts had taken.

A few minutes later he had reached the terminus of the car line, and was picking a somewhat muddy way toward a long, high-shouldered house of foreign aspect, situated on the river bank, and showing him a broad, friendly face at the end of an avenue of poplars.