“But Sir John?” he exclaimed. Footman or some such. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone.
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