” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. He came over to me. "He's audacity enough for anything.
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