"I am going to see that he has a nice tea," and I looked
back at Mr. Carruthers over my shoulder. Of course, he followed me, and we
went together down the stairs.
In the hall a footman with a telegram met us. He tore it open impatiently.
Then he looked quite annoyed.
"I hope you won't mind," he said, "but a friend of mine, Lord Robert
Vavasour, is arriving this afternoon. He is a--er--great judge of
pictures. I forgot I asked him to come down and look at them; it clean
went out of my head."
I told him he was host, and why should I object to what guests he had.
"Besides, I am going myself to-morrow," I said, "if Veronique can get the
packing done."
"Nonsense! How can I make you understand that I do not mean to let you go
at all?"
I did not answer--only looked at him defiantly.
Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and we
had not been munching muffins for five minutes when the sound of wheels
crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the windows of this room look out
that way--interrupted our made conversation.
"This must be Bob arriving," Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly
into the hall to meet his guest.
They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me.
I felt at once he was rather a pet. Such a shape! Just like the Apollo
Belvedere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice shoulders, and
looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could break pokers in
half like Mr.
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