It is a little wonderful, isn't it, to have a gift, a real gift, and to know it?
Oh, why doesn't Delarey make up his mind and let father know, as he promised!...

Here comes daddy, mum.

Bother! He's going to shoot, and I hoped he'd play golf with me." Lord Ashleigh, who had stepped through some French windows at the farther end of the terrace, paused for a few minutes to look around him.

There was certainly some excuse for his momentary absorption.

The morning, although it was late September, was perfectly fine and warm.