Tallente passed through a plain white gate, down an avenue of
dwarfed oaks, to emerge into an unexpectedly green meadow, cloven
through the middle with a straight white avenue. Through another gate
he passed into a drive which led through flaming banks of rhododendrons,
now a little past their full glory, to the front of the house, a long
and amplified building which, by reason of many additions, had become an
abode of some pretensions. A manservant answered his ring at once and
led him into a cool, white stone hall, the walls of which were hung from
floor to ceiling with hunting and sporting trophies.
"Her ladyship is still at the farm, sir," the man announced. "She said
if you came before she returned would you care to step round?"
Tallente signified his assent and was led through the house, across a
more extensive garden, from which a marvellous view of the valley and
the climbing slopes behind held him spellbound, by the side of a small,
quaintly shaped church, to a circular group of buildings of considerable
extent. The man conducted him to the front of a white-plastered cottage
covered with roses, and knocked at the door.
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