Moreover, he knew nothing of Lady Ogram's real intentions with regard to Constance; her mysterious phrases merely perplexed and annoyed him as often as he thought of them.

To marry Constance _without_ a substantial fortune--that were disaster indeed! And what if Lady Ogram's favour depended upon it?
But he had his little dinner to think of.

He wrote to Mrs.Woolstan, who, by return of post, blithely accepted his invitation, begging him, at the same time, to come and see her before then, if he could possibly spare an hour.

Dyce threw the letter aside impatiently.

On Sunday he was in Pont Street, where he met the Parliamentary Mr.Roach, a young man fairly answering to Mrs.Toplady's description; an idealist of a mild type, whose favourite talk was of "altruism," and who, whilst affecting close attention to what other people said, was always absorbed in his own thoughts.