The most inscrutable thing of all was, how she could ever have supposed herself capable of undertaking such a charge! The two ladies were already lunching when Lord Buntingford appeared, bringing with him another neighbouring squire, come to consult him on certain local affairs.

Sir Henry Bostock, one of those solid, grey-haired pillars of Church and State in which rural England abounds, was first dazzled by Miss Pitstone's beauty, and then clearly scandalized by some of her conversation, and perhaps--or so Mrs.Friend imagined--by the rather astonishing "make-up" which disfigured lips and cheeks Nature had already done her best with.
He departed immediately after lunch.

Lord Buntingford accompanied him to the front door, saw him mount his horse, and was returning to the library, when a white figure crossed his path.
"Cousin Philip, I want to speak to you." He looked up at once.
"All right, Helena.

Will you come into the library ?" He ushered her in, shut the door behind her, and pushed forward an arm-chair.
"You'll find that comfortable, I think ?" "Thank you, I'd rather stand.

Cousin Philip, did you send that telegram this morning ?" "Certainly.