Chapter 8Sir Rupert Wroth sat at his writing table and looked out of the window at the garden of Berkeley Square. The sunshine made the plane trees appear as beautiful as if they were growing in the freshness of the countryside and a gentle summer’s breeze moved their leaves, green and golden, so that they seemed to be fanning the elegantly dressed ladies seated beneath them.
Several occupants of the Square had availed themselves of the privilege of using the enclosed garden, which was available only to those who were householders.
There was the rich Miss Curzon from Number 50, a house that was considered to be haunted, whose looks and fortune had set all London speculating on whom she would marry. Dressed in a gown of sky-blue poplin she was entertaining three enraptured young Noblemen,
