“What may you be pleased to want?” she asked, with cold civility.
“I want to see Lady Gwendolyn St. Maur.”
“She isn’t at home,” replied the woman, and she was about to shut the door again in his face.
But he was prepared for this movement, and had inserted his knee in the aperture, that he might have time for parley.
“I suppose she is staying at Turoy? Lady Teignmouth gave me this address.”
But even the countess’ name and authority could not soften the woman, who seemed to take her post as door-keeper much too strictly, unless she had received stringent orders.
“Whether she is or she isn’t staying at Turoy, she isn’t in this house now,” was the reply, spoken with great determination.
“Perhaps she has gone out for a walk?” the colonel observed, trying an indirect question.
“Perhaps she has.”
“In that case, I think I had better call again later, don’t you?”