Royal Purple by Susan Barrie Page B

small pond with the flat g reen leaves of water-lilies floating on it. She felt her heart beat quicker and a wave of nostalgia sweep over her as she caught sight of a southerly facing wall of warm red brick, and a bed of wallflower s underneath it.
    The scent of the wallflowers brought a lump into her throat.
    “Oh,” she said, “it reminds me of my aunt’s house ... where I was brought up. Only it was in the heart of the country, and not nearly as impressive as this!”
    “So you’re a countrywoman at heart?” Paul Avery murmured, seeing the wistfulness in her face. He urged her forward towards the front door. “Well, it’s a good thing—if you’re fortunate enough to live in the country! But if you have to pass your days in town it’s not so good!”
    He produced a key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock of the white door. Lucy took note of the gleaming brass knocker and the antique carriage lamp beside the door. The glass of the lamp was as bright as the knocker, and when the door swung open and she could see inside the hall, the speckless condition of the interior was the thing that impressed her almost more than anything else.
    The floorboards shone, a black oak d o wer chest at the foot of a flight of shallow stairs had the patina of satin or velvet. There was a little hall table just inside the door, and on it was a silver salver with one or two letters and a few visiting cards lying on it.
    There was also a great bowl of flowers standing on the dower c hest.
    Lucy stood absolutely still once she had entered the hall, and watched Avery slipping his key back into his pocket. She also watched him open one or two of the letters and glance quickly through them.
    When he glanced round at her, and apologised, her eyes were very solemn.
    “Whose h ouse is this!” she asked again. “And why have you brought me here?”
    “Haven’t you guessed? It’s mine, and that’s why I’ve br o ught you here.”
    At the faint flicker of something that altered the expression of her face, he spoke quickly:
    “But please don’t become alarme d ! There’s an excellent woman who looks after the house—her husband runs the farm, as a matter of fact—and she ’ll be in to make some tea in a few m inutes. ” But the light in his eyes was a light of badly concealed amusement. “Naturally, I wouldn’t have brought you here if there was no one to perfor m such an all-important function as tea-making is in England!”
    But Lucy seemed curiously disincline d to desert the spot on which she was standing.
    “Why couldn’t you have told me,” she asked quietly, “that you wanted me to see your house? Why couldn’t you have told me that you owned a house?”
    He shrugged.
    “Because according to you I don’t think it’s quite in order that I should own a house. A waiter, you know ...”
    “Do you also own the farm?” as the thought occurred to her suddenly.
    “I’m afraid I do.”
    She looked round her al m ost suspiciously.
    “I know that you don’t live here—at least, not all the time ... but why do you want a house, if—?” She was suddenly realising that she knew very little about him, and a most disturbing thought had entered her head which not merely stiffened her voice but stiffened the lines of her face, and the question trailed off awkwardly. “If—?”
    “If I’m not married?” He understood immediately, and the laugh in his v oice was gay and amused. “I do assure you that I am not, and that I have no responsibilities or ties of any serious kind ... thankfully ! ” She was so embarrasse d that t he colour rushe d up over her face, and she had to lower her eyes, but afterwards she wondered why he was so thankful that domestic ties had not yet caught up with him. Why he sounded so appreciat i ve because he was free ... “So now th a t you know there isn’t the slightest danger you’ll be confronted by my wife, as well as mv exc e ll en t Mrs. Miles, won’t you come in here and sit