My Lady's Money HTML version

Chapter 10
RETURNING to his office, Mr. Troy discovered, among the correspondence that
was waiting for him, a letter from the very person whose welfare was still the
uppermost subject in his mind. Isabel Miller wrote in these terms:
"Dear Sir--My aunt, Miss Pink, is very desirous of consulting you professionally at
the earliest opportunity. Although South Morden is within little more than half an
hour's railway ride from London, Miss Pink does not presume to ask you to visit
her, being well aware of the value of your time. Will you, therefore, be so kind as
to let me know when it will be convenient to you to receive my aunt at your office
in London? Believe me, dear sir, respectfully yours, ISABEL MILLER. P.S.--I am
further instructed to say that the regrettable event at Lady Lydiard's house is the
proposed subject of the consultation. The Lawn, South Morden. Thursday."
Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter. "Too formal for a young girl!" he said to
himself. "Every word of it has been dictated by Miss Pink." He was not long in
deciding what course he should take. There was a pressing necessity for
cautioning Isabel, and here was his opportunity. He sent for his head clerk, and
looked at his list of engagements for the day. There was nothing set down in the
book which the clerk was not quite as well able to do as the master. Mr. Troy
consulted his railway-guide, ordered his cab, and caught the next train to South
Mord en.
South Morden was then (and remains to this day) one of those primitive
agricultural villages, passed over by the march of modern progress, which are
still to be found in the near neighborhood of London. Only the slow trains stopped
at the station and there was so little to do that the station-master and his porter
grew flowers on the embankment, and trained creepers over the waiting-room
window. Turning your back on the railway, and walking along the one street of
South Morden, you found yourself in the old England of two centuries since.