"
Miss Schley drifted away and was swallowed by the crowd. Sir Donald had
arrived at the top of the stairs.
"Leo's been away in Scotland ever since he had the pleasure of meeting
you. He only came back to-night."
"Then I'm not quite so hurt. He's always running about, I suppose, to
kill things, like my husband."
"He does manage a good deal in that way. If you are going to the Arkell
House ball you'll meet him there. He and his wife are both--"
"How did do! Oh, Charley, I never expected to see you. I thought it
wasn't the thing for the 2nd to turn up at little hay parties like this.
Kitty Barringlave is in the far room, dreadfully bored. Go and cheer her
up. Tell her what'll win the Cup. She's pale and peaky with ignorance
about Ascot this year. Both going to Arkell House, Sir Donald, did you
say? Bring your son to me, won't you? But of course you're a wise man
trotting off to bed."
"No. The Duke is a very old friend of mine, and so--"
"Perfect. We'll meet then. They say it's really locomotor ataxia, poor
fellow I but--ah, there's Fritz!"
Sir Donald looked at her with a sudden inquiring shrewdness, that lit up
his faded eyes and made them for a moment almost young. He had caught a
sound of vexation in her voice, which reminded him oddly of the sound in
her singing voice when Miss Filberte was making a fiasco of the
accompaniment. Lord Holme was visible and audible in the hall.
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