"General Bartholomew! That was the name," Slotman muttered. "And that is
where I commence my hunt!"




CHAPTER XV

"TO THE MANNER BORN"


Starden Hall was one of those half-timbered houses in the possession of
which Kent and Sussex are rich. It was no great mansion, but a
comfortable, rambling old house, that had been built many a generation
ago, and had been added to as occasion required by thoughtful owners,
who had always borne in mind the architecture and the atmosphere of the
original, and so to-day it covered a vast quantity of ground, being but
one storey high, and about it spread flower gardens and noble park-land
that were delights to the eye.

And this place was hers. It belonged to her, the girl who a few short
weeks ago had been earning three pounds a week in a City office, and
whose nightmare had been worklessness and starvation.

Helen Everard watched the girl closely. "To the manner born," she
thought. And yet there was that about Joan that she would have altered,
a coldness, an aloofness. Too often the beautiful mouth was set and
hard, never cruel, yet scornful. Too often those lustrous eyes looked
coldly out on to a world that was surely smiling on her now.