"I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it.
He's the sort that would." Sylvia's wide brows drew together in a little frown.

She had caught the note of warning in the old man's words, and she did not understand it.
"What do you mean, Jeffcott ?" she said, with a touch of sharpness.
But Jeffcott backed out of the vinery and out of the discussion at the same moment.

"You'll know what I mean one day, Miss Sylvia," he said darkly, "when you're married." "Silly old man!" said Sylvia, taking up the cluster of grapes for which she had come and departing in the opposite direction.
Jeffcott was a faithful old servant, but he could be very exasperating when he liked.
The gardens were bathed in the evening sunlight as she passed through them on her way to the house.

The old Manor stood out grey and ancient against an opal sky.

She looked up at it with loving eyes.