LADY ANGELA GIVES ME SOME ADVICE Rowchester was a curious medley of a house, a mixture of farmhouse, mansion, and castle, added to apparently in every generation by men with varying ideas of architecture.

The front was low and irregular, and a grey stone terrace ran the entire length, with several rows of steps leading down into the garden.

On one of these, as I emerged from the house, Lady Angela was standing talking to a gardener.

She turned round at the sound of my footsteps, and came at once towards me.
She was bareheaded, and looked as straight and slim as a dart.

I fancied that she could be no more than eighteen, her figure and face were so girlish.