Chapter FiveThe Marquis drove towards Islington with a smile on his lips.
He had the same triumphant feeling as when he had won a race or beaten his opponent at boxing.
He had, in fact, achieved what his secretary had told him was impossible and he was quite justifiably pleased with himself.
When yesterday afternoon he had gone back to Fane House to send for Mr. Ashworth, his secretary, whose duties were similar to those of a Royal Comptroller, he had felt that planning a home for Cyrilla was the most exciting thing he had ever done in his whole life.
It would be impossible, he realised, to provide her immediately with everything he wanted for her.
But already, as he drove away from Islington, he had been thinking of the paintings with which he would embellish her house, the carpets t
