How, when he had driven on down the drive feeling perplexed and not quite understanding what had occurred, he had found Salvia.
At this point in his story, he paused for breath.
His grandmother, who was looking puzzled, said,
“Salvia? Of course she is the daughter of the brave General and that charming wife of his, who I always loved. It was very kind of Lord Marlow to take her into his house. But, when her mother died, she had nowhere else to go.”
“When she stopped me at the end of the drive,” the Viscount related, “she was running away.”
“Running away!” she cried. “So why should she do that?”
“You will see a mark on her cheek where Marigold had hit her this morning with her hairbrush,” he continued. “She was carrying in her arms a little dog that Marigold had kicked until Salvia th
