Chapter 17

Miss Longwood studied the portraits one by one. At length— “How well they go here,” she said. “I think they must feel at home.” “You couldn’t have said a thing which would please me more.” “It’s true,” said the girl. “I don’t know who thought of this house, but it’s like some woodcut I’ve seen—some tail-piece in an old book.” They passed out into the garden, and he showed her the lie of his land. Then Frodsham came out to tell them that tea was served. As they strolled the lawn in his wake, Miss Longwood hung on he…