His adventurous search after trinobites in a celebrated quarry, the slipping of a stone, and consequent spraining of his right ankle, sounded into one of her ears, whilst the following conversation, entered the other:-- 'I hope you will give us the pleasure of your company on Tuesday,' said Lady Mary Nugent.

'We shall not be a large party.' 'And will come to us on Wednesday,' said Mr Gwynne.

'We must have some more chess.

I have never met with a fair opponent since--hem--I beg your pardon, Lady Mary--Ah--yes--or, on Thursday.

You see we did not like to ask you whilst your mother was so ill; my daughter thought it would be useless.' Rowland coloured at the allusion to Freda, but did not even glance at her.
'Thank you, Lady Mary; thank you, Mr Gwynne, very much indeed, but I intend being in London on Tuesday.