'How he goes on about Shrapnel!'

'I shouldn't think much of him if he didn't.'

'You're one in a thousand, Romfrey. I object to seeing a man
worshipped.'

'It's Nevil's green-sickness, and Shrapnel's the god of it.'

'I trust to heaven you're right. It seems to me young fellows ought to
be out of it earlier.'

'They generally are.' Mr. Romfrey named some of the processes by which
they are relieved of brain-flightiness, adding philosophically, 'This way
or that.'

His quick ear caught a sound of hoofs cantering down the avenue on the
Northern front of the house.

He consulted his watch. 'Ten minutes to eight. Say a quarter-past for
dinner. They're here, colonel.'

Mr. Romfrey met Nevil returning from the stables. Cecilia had
disappeared.

'Had a good day?' said Mr. Romfrey.

Beauchamp replied: 'I'll tell you of it after dinner,' and passed by him.

Mr. Romfrey edged round to Colonel Halkett, conjecturing in his mind: