Six
LOVE
T he following morning they visited a small Queen Anne Manor¹ House. The drive there had not been very long ortiring. It was a very charming-looking house and had an interesting history as well as a very beautiful and unusuallylaid out garden.
Richard Jameson, the architect, was full of admiration² for the structural³ beauty of the house and being the kind ofyoung man who is fond of hearing his own voice, he slowed down in nearly every room that they went through,pointing out every special moulding of fireplace, and giving historical dates and references. Some of the group,appreciative at first, began to get slightly restive⁴, as the somewhat monotonous⁵ lecturing went on. Some of them beganto edge carefully away and fall behind the party. The local caretaker, who was in charge, was not himself too pleasedat having his occupation usurped⁶ by one of the sightseers. He made a few efforts to get matters back into his ownhands but Mr. Jameson was unyielding. The caretaker made a last try.
“In this room, ladies and gentlemen, the White Parlour, folks call it, is where they found a body. A young man itwas, stabbed with a dagger⁷, lying on the hearthrug. Way back in seventeen hundred and something it was. It was saidthat the Lady Moffat of that day had a lover. He came through a small side door and up a steep staircase to this roomthrough a loose panel there was to the left of the fireplace. Sir Richard Moffat, her husband, you see, was said to beacross the seas in the Low Countries. But he come home, and in he came unexpectedly and caught ’em theretogether.”
He paused proudly. He was pleased at the response from his audience, glad of a respite⁸ from the architecturaldetails which they had been having forced down their throats.
“Why, isn’t that just too romantic, Henry?” said Mrs. Butler in her

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