"I've missed that spoiling, Susan," he said. Once again that incongruous
little note of wistfulness sounded in his voice. But, an instant later,
Lady Susan wondered if her ears had deceived her, for he swung round and
snapped out in his usual hectoring manner: "Then you won't help me in
this?"

"Help you to marry off Ann to Tony? No, I won't. For one thing, I don't
want to spare her. And if ever I have to, it's going to be to some one
who'll look after _her_--and take jolly good care of her, too!"

"Obstinate woman! Well--well"--irritably. "What am I to do, then?"

"Can't you manage your own nephew?"

"No, I can't, confound it! Told me this morning he wanted to be an
architect. An architect!" He spoke as though an architect were something
that crawled. "Imagine a Brabazon of Lorne turning architect!"

"Well, why not?" placidly. "It's better than being nothing but a
gambler--like poor Dick. Tony always did love making plans. Don't you
remember, when he was about eight, he made a drawing of heaven, with
seating accommodation for the angels--cherubim and seraphim, and so
on--in tiers? The general effect was rather like a plan of the Albert
Hall"--smiling reminiscently. "Seriously, though, Philip, if the boy wants
_work_, in the name of common sense, let him have it."

"There's plenty of work for him at Lorne"--stubbornly. "Let him learn to
manage the property. That's what I want--and what I'll have. God bless my
soul! What have I brought the boy up for? To be a comfort in my old age, of
course, and a credit to the name. Architect be hanged!"