Читать книгу The Green Archer онлайн

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"Father," said Valerie Howett that morning at breakfast, "I want a country-house."

Mr. Howett looked up.

"What's that?" he asked, startled.

"I want a country-house," said Valerie.

He thought she looked tired and pale. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and a certain listlessness of manner which caused him some concern.

"I've seen a wonderful old place. It isn't far from London, and it has the disadvantage of adjoining Abel Bellamy's estate."

"But, my dear," said the troubled man, "I have certain duties to perform in America, and I can't stay on here through the winter. Though it could be fixed, I suppose," he added. "Where is this place?"

"At Garre—it is called Lady's Manor, and is an old dower-house that at one time belonged to the castle. It would want a whole lot of renovating." She looked down at her plate and went on tactfully: "I thought it was just the place for you, daddy, if you are ever going to write your book."

Mr. Howett dreamed a dream of writing a political history of England. It was a project he had had in mind for twenty years and for which he had accumulated an immense amount of data. The fact that perfectly good political histories of England existed was less a deterrent than a spur to emulation, and Mr. Howett scratched his cheek thoughtfully.