lowed his till they perceived Lady Lucy sitting a little
way off under a camellia-tree covered with red blossom. Her lap was
heaped with the letters of the morning. Mr. Ferrier, with a cigarette in
his mouth, stood beside her, reading the sheets of a letter which she
handed to him as she herself finished them. Every now and then she spoke
to him, and he replied. In the little scene, between the slender
white-haired woman and the middle-aged man, there was something so
intimate, so conjugal even, that Diana involuntarily turned away as
though to watch it were an impertinence.

"Rather touching, isn't it?" said the youth, smiling benevolently. "Of
course you know--there's a romance, or rather _was_--long ago. My mother
knew all about it. Since old Marsham's death, Lady Lucy's never done a
thing without Ferrier to advise her. Why she hasn't married him, that's
the puzzle.--But she's a curious woman, is Lady Lucy. Looks so soft,
but--" He pursed up his lips with an important air.

"Anyhow, she depends a lot on Ferrier. He's constantly here whenever he
can be spared from London and Parliament. He got Oliver into
Parliament--his first seat I mean--for Manchester. The Ferriers are very
big people up there, and old Ferrier's recommendation of him just put
him in straight--no trouble about it! Oh! and before that when he was at
Eton--and Oxford too--Ferrier looked after him like a father.--Used to
have him up for exeats--and talk to the Head--and keep his mother
straight--like an old brick. Ferrier's a splendid chap!"

Diana warmly agreed.

"Perhaps you know," pursued the chatterbox, "that this place is all
hers--Lady Lucy's. She can leave it and her money exactly as she
pleases. It is to be hoped she won't leave much of it to Mrs.
Fotheringham. _Isn't_ that a woman! Ah! you don't know her yet.
Hullo!--there's Marsham after me."

For Marsham was beckoning from the hall. They returned hurriedly.

"Who made Oliver that waistcoat?" said Lady Niton, putting on her
spectacles.

"I did," said Alicia Drake, as she came up, with her arm round the
younger of Lady Niton's nieces. "Isn't it becoming?"

"Hum!" said Lady Niton, in a gruff tone, "young ladies can always find
new ways of wasting their time."

Marsham approached Diana.

"We're just off," he said, smiling. "The clouds are lifting. You'll
come?"

"What, to lunch?" said Lady Niton, just behind. "Of course they will.
What else is there for the women to do? Congratulat