Not daring to think long about it lest she lose her determination, she started that very afternoon on her surprising errand.
She had the carriage to herself, for she had been to tea with a friend, and on her way home she asked the coachman to stop at a house in Carlton Terrace.
Reaching the house, Patty sent her card in by the footman, and awaited results with a beating heart.
The footman returned to the carriage door, saying, Sir Otho Markleham would be pleased to see Miss Fairfield, and resolutely crushing down her timidity, Patty went in.
She was ushered into a large and formal drawing-room, and waited there a few moments alone.
She wished she had been asked into a library, or some more cosy room, for the stiff hangings, and massive furniture were oppressive. But she had no time for further thought, for Sir Otho entered the room.
He bowed with exceeding courtesy, but with a surprised air, which was indeed only natural.
Frightened almost out of her wits, Patty extended her hand, and though she tried to conquer her embarrassment, her voice trembled, as she said: “How do you do, Sir Otho? I’ve come to see you.”
She tried to speak jauntily, but there was a queer little break in her voice.
“So I perceive,” said Sir Otho, coldly. “May I ask why I have this honour?”