He
coughed again. He felt embarrassed. "Just--just one other thing,"
he repeated.
The reason for Lord Marshmoreton's visit to George had been
twofold. In the first place, Lady Caroline had told him to go.
That would have been reason enough. But what made the visit
imperative was an unfortunate accident of which he had only that
morning been made aware.
It will be remembered that Billie Dore had told George that the
gardener with whom she had become so friendly had taken her name
and address with a view later on to send her some of his roses. The
scrap of paper on which this information had been written was now
lost. Lord Marshmoreton had been hunting for it since breakfast
without avail.
Billie Dore had made a decided impression upon Lord Marshmoreton.
She belonged to a type which he had never before encountered, and
it was one which he had found more than agreeable. Her knowledge of
roses and the proper feeling which she manifested towards
rose-growing as a life-work consolidated the earl's liking for her.
Never, in his memory, had he come across so sensible and charming a
girl; and he had looked forward with a singular intensity to
meeting her again.
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