Sir Galahad came galloping home riderless, and--" "That will do, Edward.

You did not disturb Lady Kingsland ?" "No, Sir Heverard." Sir Everard passed abruptly on and sought the stables at once.

Sir Galahad was there, undergoing his morning toilet, and greeted his master with a loud neigh of delight.
The young baronet dawdled away the lagging morning hours, smoking endless cigars under the waving trees, and waiting for the time when my lady should be visible.

She rarely rose before noon, but to-day she deigned to get up at nine.

Sir Everard flung away his last cigar, and went bounding up the grand stairs three at a time.
Lady Kingsland sat breakfasting in her boudoir with her daughter--a charming little bijou of a room, all filigree work, and fluted walls, delicious little Greuze paintings, and flowers and perfume--and Lady Kingsland, in an exquisitely becoming robe de matin, at five-and-fifty looked fair and handsome, and scarce middle-aged yet.