Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. Stanley’s acquaintance in the train and shown him one or two trifling civilities. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. CHAPTER IV. Only the next of kin. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.
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