Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam."
"I have just had one," Francis replied. "Mrs. Hilditch is in the
rose garden and I am on my way to join her."
He passed on and the two moved towards the open French windows.
He crossed the rustic bridge that led into the flower garden,
turned down the pergola and came to a sudden standstill before
the seat which Margaret had indicated. It was empty, but in the
corner lay the long-stalked lily which she had picked in the
backwater. He stood there for a moment, transfixed. There were
other seats and chairs in the garden, but he knew before he
started his search that it was in vain. She had gone. The
flower, drooping a little now though the stalk was still wet with
the moisture of the river, seemed to him like her farewell.
CHAPTER XIX
Francis was surprised, when he descended for breakfast the next
morning, to find the table laid for one only. The butler who was
waiting, handed him the daily papers and wheeled the electric
heater to his side.
"Is no one else breakfasting?" Francis asked.
"Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms,
sir. Her ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs."
Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a
cigarette and went round to the garage for his car.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154