The Duke possessed a
splendid collection of pictures.
"There he is!" said Leo, gruffly.
"He doesn't see us. Go and tell him I'm here."
"Why? he might go out again if we keep mum."
"But I want to speak to him. Sir Donald! Sir Donald!"
Sir Donald turned round at the second summons and came towards them,
looking rather embarrassed.
"Hulloa, pater!" said Leo.
Sir Donald nodded to his son with a conscientious effort to seem familiar
and genial.
"Hulloa!" he rejoined in a hollow voice.
"Your boy has been instructing me in American mysteries," said Lady
Holme. "Do take me to the ballroom, Sir Donald."
Leo Ulford's good humour returned as abruptly as it had departed. Her
glance at him, as she spoke, had seemed to hint at a secret understanding
between them in which no one--certainly not his father--was included.
"Pater can tell you all about the pictures," he said, with a comfortable
assurance, which he did not strive to disguise, that she would be
supremely bored.
He stared at her hard, gave a short laugh, and lounged away.
When he had gone, Sir Donald still seemed embarrassed. He looked at Lady
Holme apologetically, and in his faded eyes she saw an expression that
reminded her of Lady Cardington. It was surely old age asking forgiveness
for its existence.
She did not feel much pity for it, but with the woman of the world's
natural instinct to smooth rough places--especially for a man--she began
to devote herself to cheering Sir Donald up, as they slowly made their
way through room after room towards the distant sound of the music.
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