work to get there as it is."

"What, do you think of not going at all?" said Telfer, laying down the
_Revue des deux Mondes_ with a yawn. "We are very well here. Marc
bothers me tremendously to stay on another month, and the shooting's as
good as we shall get at Glenattock. What do you say, Vane?"

"Just as you like," I answered. "The pigs are as good as the grouse, for
anything I know. They put me in mind of getting my first spear at
Burampootra. I only thought you wanted to be off out of sight of the
Tressillian."

He laughed slightly. "Oh! the young lady's no particular eyesore to me
now I don't regard her in the light of a _belle-mere_. Well, shall we
stop here, then?"

"_Comme vous voulez._ I don't care."

"No philosopher ever moves when he's comfortable," said the Major,
laughing. "I'll write and tell Montague he can shoot over Glenattock if
he likes. I dare say he can find some men who'll keep him company and
fill the box. I say, old fellow, I've won Calceolaria, but I sha'n't
have her, because I consider the bet drawn. Our wager was laid on the
supposition that the Tressillian wished to marry the governor, but as
she never has had the desire, I've neither lost nor won."

"Well, we'll wait and see," said I. "Christmas isn't come yet. Here
comes Violet. She looks well, don't she? Confess now, prejudice apart,
that you admire her, _nolens volens_."

Telfer looked at her steadily as she came into the billiard-room in her
hat and habit, as she'd been riding with Lucy Carteret, Marc, and De
Tintiniac. "Yes," he said, slowly, under his breath, "she is very good
style, I admit."

Lucy Carteret challenged Telfer to a game; she has a tall, _svelte_
figure, and knows she looks well at billiards. He played lazily, and let
her win easily enough, paying as little attention to the _agaceries_ and
glances she lavished upon him as if he'd been an automaton. When they'd
played it out, he went up to the Tressillian, who was talking to Marc in
the window, and, to my supreme astonishment, asked her to have a game.

"Thank you, no," answered Violet, coldly; "it is too warm for
billiards."

This was certainly the first time the Major had ever been refused in any
of his overtures to her sex, and I believe it surprised him exceedingly.
He bent his head, and soon after he went for a walk in the rosery with
Lucy Carteret, whom he hates. We always hate those manoeuvring,
_maniere_ girls, who are everlastingly flinging bait afte