would never degrade her into a divorce court appearance.  And perhaps, after all, as Miss Greeby thought hopefully, his love for Sir Hubert’s wife might have turned to scorn that she had preferred money to true love.  But then, again, as Miss Greeby remembered, with a darkening face, Agnes had married the millionaire so as to save the family estates from being sold.  Rank has its obligation, and Lambert might approve of the sacrifice, since he was the next heir to the Garvington title.  “We shall see what his attitude is,” decided Miss Greeby, as she entered the Abbot’s Wood, and delayed arranging her future plans until she fully understood his feelings towards the woman he had lost.  In the meantime, Lambert would want a comrade, and Miss Greeby was prepared to sink her romantic feelings, for the time being, in order to be one.

The forest—­which belonged to Garvington, so long as he paid the interest on the mortgage—­was not a very large one.  In the old days it had been of greater size and well stocked with wild animals; so well stocked, indeed, that the abbots of a near monastery had used it for many hundred years as a hunting ground.  But the monastery had vanished off the face of the earth, as not even its ruins were left, and the game had disappeared as the forest grew smaller and the district around became more populous.  A Lambert of the Georgian period—­the family name of Lord Garvington was Lambert—­had acquired what was left of the monastic wood by winning it at a game of cards from the nobleman who had then owned it.  Now it was simply a large patch of green in the middle of a somewhat naked county, for Hengishire is not remarkable for woodlands.  There were rabbits and birds, badgers, stoats, and such-like wild things in it still, but the deer which the abbots had hunted were conspicuous by their absence.  Garvington looked after it about as much as he did after the rest of his estates, which was not saying much.  The fat, round little lord’s heart was always in the kitchen, and he preferred eating to fulfilling his duties as a landlord.  Consequently, the Abbot’s Wood was more or less public property, save when Garvington turned crusty and every now and then cleared out all interlopers.  But tramps came to sleep in the wood, and gypsies camped in its glades, while summer time brought many artists to rave about its sylvan beauties, and paint pictures of ancient trees and silent pools, and rugged lawns besprinkled with rainbow wild flowers.  People who went to the Academy and to the various art exhibitions in Bond Street knew the Abbot’s Wood fairly well, as it was rarely that at least one picture dealing with it did not appear.