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Updated: June 1, 2025
Oh, I did hope that you would come again!" she exclaimed, "The doctor says that my little girl's certain to get well. I was terrible anxious the day before yesterday, but now though she's weak and wan, you'd hardly know she'd been bad, sir." "I wonder if you could give me the keys of Doryford House?" began Radmore. "I want to go over it, and we need not trouble you to come with us."
He was standing by one of the round pillars which carried out the type of architecture which had been the fashion at the time Doryford was built; and he was gazing at her with what seemed to her a rather odd expression on his dark face. Was he going to tell her of his hopes or intention with regard to Mrs. Crofton? Betty felt, for the first time that day, intensely shy.
Houses are like people they have their day, their hour, even, one feels inclined to add, their moods of sadness and of joy, of brightness and of dulness. To-day the white Corinthian-looking building called Doryford House was at its best, in the soft lambent light of an autumn day.
At last the car slowed down in front of a gate, on one side of which was a big board. On this board was painted a statement to the effect that the historic estate of Doryford House was to be let or sold, furnished or unfurnished, "Apply to the principal London agents." The finding of the place had not been quite easy, and Radmore drew a breath of relief as he helped Betty down.
"You must think it well over," she began. But he cut her short. "It depends on you whether Doryford becomes my home or not." "On me?" she repeated, troubled. "Don't trust to my taste as much as that, Godfrey." "But you do like it?" he asked insistently. "Of course I like it. If it comes to that, I don't know that I've ever been in so beautiful and perfect a house.
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