“But surely he will come back himself some time?” she asked,
The lawyer shook his head sorrowfully.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that Sir Wingrave has no affection for the place whatever.”
“No affection for Tredowen,” she repeated wonderingly. “Do you know what I think, Mr. Pengarth? I think that it is the most beautiful house in the world!”
“And yet you talk of leaving it.”
“I don’t want to go,” she answered, “but I don’t want to be accepting things all my life from someone whose name even I do not know.”
“Well, well,” he said, “you must wait until I have written my letter. Time enough to talk about that later on. Now, if you won’t stay to lunch, you must come and see Rachael and have some cake and a glass of wine.”
“How sweet of you,” she exclaimed. “I’m frightfully hungry. Can I do anything to stop growing, Mr. Pengarth? I’m getting taller and taller!”
She stood up. She was head and shoulders taller than the little lawyer, slim as a lath, and yet wonderfully graceful. She laughed down at him and made a little grimace.
“I’m a giraffe, am I not?” she declared; “and I’m still growing. Do show me your garden, Mr. Pengarth. I want to see your hollyhocks. Everyone is talking about them.”