‘Yes, don’t interrupt me,’ said Captain Roding severely. "I understand, Sir," replied Davies, drawing a little aside. "You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. Not a moment is to be lost. I wonder. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago.
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