My entry created no sensation. Nobody, apparently, had heard the latch
click, and nobody had caught sight of me. Their eyes were fixed on the
young man and Beale. I stood at the gate and watched them.
There seemed to have been trouble already. Looking more closely I
perceived sitting on the grass apart a second young man. His face was
obscured by a dirty pocket handkerchief, with which he dabbed tenderly
at his features. Every now and then the shirt-sleeved young man flung
his hand toward him with an indignant gesture, talking hard the
while. It did not need a preternaturally keen observer to deduce what
had happened. Beale must have fallen out with the young man who was
sitting on the grass and smitten him, and now his friend had taken up
the quarrel.
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