Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. "Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. She is a stranger to you. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. White rang the bell. Danger, the most terrible she had ever faced, was substantially in this room.
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