"I didn't mean you, Auntie," said Lesley, kissing her.
"Not me? Who, then——"
"But I really ought to write."
"I do hope I haven't taken your inspiration away, dearest."
"No. You've given me one."
"I'm so glad. Well, I'll run away now. I've lots of things to see to. Forget all about the Marquis of Loveland—I mean the valet. Put him out of your mind."
"Don't worry, Auntie. It's quite easy to put a valet out of a tidy, well-regulated little mind like mine."
"Think of Dick," said Mrs. Loveland. "He's going to be a splendid fellow."
"Dick's a paper doll," said Lesley.
Perhaps it was because she was not in a mood to play dolls that, when Aunt Barbara was gone, Lesley did not go back to her sofa and her story writing. She picked up the paper which Mrs. Loveland had left lying on the table, but she did not read. She merely looked at Mr. Milton's photograph. Then she went to the desk where she kept papers, and took a cheque-book from a drawer.