I wouldn't have
known you."
Such were the most coherent of the greetings which followed, as two
visitors, in travelling rig, their faces reddened by eight days at sea
in midwinter, crossed the threshold.
There could be no difficulty in recognizing Cyrus Garst's well-knit
figure and speculative eyes, though a sprouting beard changed somewhat
the lower part of his face. And if Royal Sinclair's tall shoulders and
brand-new mustache were at all unfamiliar, anybody who had once heard
the click and hum of his hasty tongue would scarcely question his
identity.
The Americans had steamed over the Atlantic amid bluster of elements,
purposing a tour through southern France and Italy. And they were to
take part, before proceeding to the Continent, in the festivities of an
English Christmas at the Farrars' home in Manchester.
"Oh, but this is jolly!" cried Neal again, his voice so thickened by the
joy of welcome that--embryo cavalry man though he was--he could bring
out nothing more forceful than the one boyish exclamation.
Dol's throat was freer.
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