Below he could see gleaming water....
He let fall the curtain, and, blowing out the candles, got slowly, luxuriously, into the vast, comfortable four-post bed.
As he composed himself to sleep, broken, disconnected images floated through his brain.

Bill Donnington--what a nice boy! And yet not exactly, he felt, in sympathy with any of the people there.

He wondered why Bill Donnington had come to spend Christmas at Wyndfell Hall.

Then he remembered--and smiled in the fitful firelight.

What a pity there wasn't some nice, simple, gentle girl for young Donnington! That was the sort of girl he, Panton, would have chosen for him.