are uncivil. Well, and how are you getting on? Making your fortune, eh?"

And, slipping his arm inside the young man's, the speaker walked back
with him, along a line of carriages, towards a house which showed a
group of footmen at its open door. Jacob Delafield smiled.

"The business of a land agent seems to be to spend some one else's--as
far as I've yet gone."

"Land agent! I thought you were at the bar?"

"I was, but the briefs didn't come in. My cousin offered me the care of
his Essex estates. I like the country--always have. So I thought I'd
better accept."

"What--the Duke? Lucky fellow! A regular income, and no anxieties. I
expect you're pretty well paid?"

"Oh, I'm not badly paid," replied the young man, tranquilly. "Of course
you're going to Lady Henry's?"

"Of course. Here we are."

The older man paused outside the line of servants waiting at the door,
and spoke in a lower tone. "How is she? Failing at all?"

Jacob Delafield hesitated. "She's grown very blind--and perhaps rather
more infirm, generally. But she is at home, as usual--every evening for
a few people, and for a good many on Wednesdays."