The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. She really must not go to that affair. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. "No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. ‘That’s better. ‘That is my mother.
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