At Woode Hall in the country there was a huge library.
Marcia would, however, have felt deprived of something very essential if there had not been books for her to read wherever she was.
The candelabrum was still lit on the Earl’s desk and the candles were alight on the mantelpiece.
As Marcia entered the room, the butler waited in the doorway in case there were any orders.
“There is nothing else, thank you, Bowles,” the Earl said.
“Goodnight, my Lord.”
The butler bowed before he closed the door.
Marcia gave a little yawn.
“It’s too late, Papa,” she then remarked, “for one of your lectures. I know that you are upset that I will not marry George, but there is nothing I can do about it.”
“What do you mean there is nothing you can do about it?” the Earl asked. “As I have told you, you
