"It is one of the duties of hospitality, Mr.
Delamayn, to hasten your departure, under these sad circumstances.

Lady Lundie is engaged with her guests.

I will see myself that there is no unnecessary delay in sending you to the station." He bowed--and left the summer-house.
Arnold said a word of sympathy to his friend, when they were alone.
"I am sorry for this, Geoffrey.

I hope and trust you will get to London in time." He stopped.

There was something in Geoffrey's face--a strange mixture of doubt and bewilderment, of annoyance and hesitation--which was not to be accounted for as the natural result of the news that he had received.
His color shifted and changed; he picked fretfully at his finger-nails; he looked at Arnold as if he was going to speak--and then looked away again, in silence.
"Is there something amiss, Geoffrey, besides this bad news about your father ?" asked Arnold.
"I'm in the devil's own mess," was the answer.
"Can I do any thing to help you ?" Instead of making a direct reply, Geoffrey lifted his mighty hand, and gave Arnold a friendly slap on the shoulder which shook him from head to foot.