Not that she was Maggie Macleod any more. She was Miss Margaret Dunglass, a relative who had been sent to London to ‘do’ the Season. The earl sat in Mrs. Murray’s elegant drawing-room and thought some dark thoughts about Maggie. She and Mrs. Murray had not yet met, although Mrs. Murray never seemed to tire of asking the earl questions about his mysterious ‘cousin’. The earl would laugh and say Margaret Dunglass was a quiet little thing, very retiring, and Mrs. Murray would look pleased and drop the subject, only to return to it a few days later. For Mrs. Murray had begun to think this cousin was a very bad influence on the open-handed earl. Perhaps she had reason to. It had all started when Maggie had arrived at the house in Charlton Street. She had eyed the bright new William Morris wallpaper and the new sea-green carpet and the art nouveau hangings, and, when pressed for an opinion, had said that it had looked more ‘homey’ before, and the earl, who was reluctantly inclined to be of the same opinion but did not want any criticism, even several times removed, of his beloved Dolly Murray, had become quite angry with her and had said caustically that Maggie herself could do with being ‘done over’ since her clothes were ‘homey’ to say the least.
