"Till you mentioned it to-night, my dear fellow, I hadn't the remotest idea that you still owned property in England." "The Grange is shut up," said Sir Jeremy, "and has been for twenty years.

But I keep a man there--Horrod--he was butler in my father's time and before.

If you care to go, I'll write him that you're coming.

And, since you are taking your own fate in your hands, the fifteenth of November is the day." At that moment Lady Buggam and Clara and the other girls came trooping out on the verandah, and the whole thing passed clean out of my mind.
Nor did I think of it again until I was back in London.

Then, by one of those strange coincidences or premonitions--call it what you will--it suddenly occurred to me one morning that it was the fifteenth of November.