But why should Leek dispatch photographs of his master to strange ladies introduced through a matrimonial agency?
Priam Farll could not imagine--unless it was from sheer unscrupulous, careless bounce.
She gazed at the portrait with obvious joy.
"Now, candidly, don't _you_ think it's very, very good ?" she demanded.
"I suppose it is," he agreed.

He would probably have given two hundred pounds for the courage to explain to her in a few well-chosen words that there had been a vast mistake, a huge impulsive indiscretion.

But two hundred thousand pounds would not have bought that courage.
"I love it," she ejaculated fervently--with heat, and yet so nicely! And she returned the photograph to her little bag.
She lowered her voice.
"You haven't told me whether you were ever married.

I've been waiting for that." He blushed.

She was disconcertingly personal.
"No," he said.
"And you've always lived like that, alone like; no home; travelling about; no one to look after you, properly ?" There was distress in her voice.
He nodded.