E. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. ” “Again,” he said, “I am going to be impertinent. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children.
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