"Damn Davison!"--he said to himself, with sudden temper. The outburst
seemed to clear his mind. He went to the bell and rang it. A thin woman
in a black dress appeared, a woman with a depressed and deprecating
expression which was often annoying to Lord Buntingford. It represented
somehow an appeal to the sentiment of the spectator for which there was
really no sufficient ground. Mrs. Mawson was not a widow, in spite of the
Mrs. She was a well-paid and perfectly healthy person; and there was no
reason, in Lord Buntingford's view, why she should not enjoy life. All
the same, she was very efficient and made him comfortable. He would have
raised her wages to preposterous heights to keep her.

"Is everything ready for the two ladies, Mrs. Mawson?"

"Everything, my Lord. We are expecting the pony-cart directly."

"And the car has been ordered for Miss Pitstone?"

"Oh, yes, my Lord, long ago."

"Gracious! Isn't that the cart!"

There was certainly a sound of wheels outside. Lord Buntingford hurried
to a window which commanded the drive.

"That's her! I must go and meet her."

He went into the hall, reaching the front door just as the pony-cart drew
up with a lady in black sitting beside the driver. Mrs. Mawson looked
after him. She wondered why his lordship was in such a flurry. "It's this
living alone. He isn't used to have women about. And it's a pity he