meet him. His wife, still beautiful notwithstanding her forty-five years,
had turned her pleasant face towards him, and Ella, whom a great many
Society papers had singled out as being one of the most beautiful
débutantes of the season, was welcoming him with her usual lazy but wholly
good-humoured smile.

"Daddy, your habits are getting positively disgraceful!" she exclaimed.
"Mother and I have nearly finished--and our share of the post-bag is most
uninteresting. Please come and sit down, tell us where you are going to
shoot, and whether you've had any letters this morning?"

Lord Ashleigh loitered for a moment to raise the covers from the dishes
upon a side table. Afterwards he seated himself in the chair which the
servant was holding for him.

"I am going out for an hour or two with Fitzgerald," he announced.
"Partridges are scarcely worth shooting yet but he has arranged a few
drives over the hills. As for my being late--well, that has something to
do with you, young lady."

Ella looked at him with a sudden seriousness in her great eyes.

"Daddy, you've heard something!"

Lord Ashleigh pulled a bundle of letters from his pocket.

"I have," he admitted.

"Quick!" Ella begged. "Tell us all about it? Don't sit there, dad, looking
so stolid. Can't you see I am dying to hear? Quick, please!"