ay and have lunch with Nelly," the Dowager went on, quite
ignorant of his perturbation. "Afterwards, I'm going to take her to see
houses with me. _Of course_, I shall settle in your immediate
neighbourhood, if I can find anything suitable. I'm going to take Nelly
off your hands a bit, take her about and advise her as to her frocks.
She was wearing white chiffon the last time we dined here--a most
perishable material. I don't think your purse is long enough for white
chiffon, Denis. Then the young people ought to see more of each other.
We ought to be talking about trousseaux----"

But at this point the General fled. If he had stayed another second he
would have said things that his kind and chivalrous heart would have
grieved over later. He fled, and left her Ladyship staring after him in
amazement.

He clean forgot about the curry in the fretting and fuming of his mind,
or it occurred to him only to be consigned to Grogan, as though Grogan
were a synonym for something much stronger. His fiery indignation
between Sherwood Square and Pall Mall was quite amazing. The Dowager in
the next street! Why, he might as well order his coffin. And talking
about taking Nelly from him. That muff, Robin, too! When had the fellow
shown any impatience? He didn't want the girl to marry an oyster. He
remembered the glory and glamour of his own love affair, of that golden
year of marriage. His Nelly ought to be loved as her mother had been
before her, as her mother's daughter deserved to be. He wasn't going to
yield her to a fellow who would only give her half his tepid heart, who
would leave her to spend her evenings alone while he spouted in Radical
clubs or in that big talking shop, the House of Commons. He wouldn't
have it. And still----Robin was poor Gerald's son, and there was nothing
against him but his politics. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the
General recognised the fact that he could have forgiven the politics if
it had not been for the Dowager.

He had almost reached the doors of his club--Grogan might eat the curry
for him, and be hanged to him!--when he saw advancing towards him the
spare, elegant figure that sat its horse in front of the regiment below
the General's window every morning. The oddest gleam came into his eyes.
The young man had recognised him, and was blushing like a girl as he
came towards him. He had velvety brown eyes and regular features, was a
handsome lad, the General said to himself as young Lang