I think Chichester feels at a loss, and he likes you very much." "Of course I'll stay," replied Hillyard.
Mr.Albany Todd drifted away to the more congenial atmosphere of a dowager duchess's dower-house in the Highlands, where it is to be hoped that his conversational qualities were more brilliantly displayed than in the irreverent gaiety of Rackham.

Millie Splay meant to keep Harry Luttrell too.

She hoped against hope.

This was the man for her Joan, and whether he was wasting his leave miserably in that melancholy house troubled her not one jot.
"It would be so welcome to me if you would put off your departure," she said.

"I am sure there is some dreadful misunderstanding." Luttrell consented willingly to stay, and they went into the library, where Sir Chichester was brooding over the catastrophe with his head in his hands and the copy of the _Harpoon_ on the floor beside him.
"No, I can't make head or tail of it," he said, and Harper the butler came softly into the room, closing the door from the hall.
"There's a reporter from the _West Sussex Advertiser_, sir, asking to see you," he said, and Sir Chichester raised his head, like an old hunter which hears a pack of hounds giving tongue in the distance.
"Where is he ?" "In the hall, sir." The baronet's head sank again between his shoulders.
"Tell him that I can't see him," he said in a dull voice.
The butler was the only man in the room who could hear that pronouncement with an unmoved face, and he owed his imperturbability merely to professional pride.