"She told him she'd think about it, and, meanwhile, he's
just as devoted as ever."
They crossed the great stone hall together--the hall which, with its
wonderful pillars and carved dome, made Enton the show-house of the
county. Arranmore's study was a small octagonal room leading out from
the library. A fire of cedar logs was burning in an open grate, and he
wheeled up an easy-chair for her close to his writing-table.
"I wonder," she remarked, thoughtfully, "what you think of Syd
Molyneux?"
"Is there anything--to be thought about him?" he answered, lighting a
cigarette.
"He's rather that way, isn't he?" she assented. "I mean for Sybil, you
know."
"I should let Sybil decide," he answered.
"She probably will," Lady Caroom said. "Still, she's horribly bored at
having to be dragged about to places, you know, and that sort of thing,
just because she isn't married, and she likes Syd all right. He's no
fool!"
"I suppose not," Arranmore answered. "He's of a type, you know, which
has sprung up during my--absence from civilization. You want to grow up
with it to appreciate it properly.
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