The three young men exchanged expressive glances. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. It was something you were supposed to return, so she raced through all the television shows that she had watched over the years. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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