"I am expecting Phoebe," she answered. "Mark has taken some rooms in
Weymouth Street and we are invited to inspect them to-day."
Colonel Faversham chuckled as she left the house. Nothing could suit
his purpose better! She would never, he felt certain, be content to
stay at home under the new Mrs. Faversham's regime, and her own
marriage would prove an admirable solution of the difficulty.
Mark Driver was just now in his element. His friend, Doctor Harefield,
had broken down in health, his only hope being to relinquish an
incipient practice and spend a considerable time in a more favourable
climate. Mark had taken over Harefield's three rooms: a dining-room on
the ground floor, intended to serve also as a patients' waiting-room; a
small consulting-room in its rear, and a bedroom at the top of the
house. The furniture, such as it was, had been bought at a valuation,
not that Mark had intended to make such an outlay at the moment, but it
was understood that the goodwill of Harefield's practice was to be
thrown in. It was, in fact, far too small to be sold separately,
although it might form the nucleus of the much larger one which his
successor fully intended to build up.
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