He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. "Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. ‘No doubt accompanied by the latest crim con tales. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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