be doubled.

Mrs. Woolstan, after all, went no further in that business. She had her
own reasons for continuing to think constantly of it, but for the
present felt she would prefer not to trouble Mr. Wrybolt. Impatiently
she looked forward to Thursday and the coming of Dyce Lashmar.

He came, with a countenance of dubious import. He was neither merry nor
sad, neither talkative nor taciturn. At one moment his face seemed to
radiate hope; the next, he appeared to fall under a shadow of
solicitude. When his hostess talked of her son, he plainly gave no
heed; his replies were mechanical. When she asked him for an account of
what he had been doing down in the country, he answered with broken
scraps of uninteresting information. Thus passed the quarter of an hour
before luncheon, and part of luncheon itself; but at length Dyce
recovered his more natural demeanour. Choosing a moment when the
parlour-maid was out of the room, he leaned towards Mrs. Woolstan, and
said, with the smile of easy comradeship:

"I have a great deal to tell you."

"I'm so glad!" exclaimed Iris, who had been sinking into a disheartened
silence. "I began to fear nothing interesting had happened."

"Have patience. Presently."

After that, the meal was quickly finished; they passed into the
drawing-room, and took comfortable chairs on either side of the hearth.
May had brought cold, clammy weather; a sky of billowing grey and
frequent gusts against the window made it pleasant here by this bright
fireside. Lashmar stretched his legs, smiled at the gimcracks shelved
and niched above the mantelpiece, and began talking. His description of
Lady Ogram was amusing, but not disrespectful; he depicted her as an
old autocrat of vigorous mind and original character, a woman to be
taken quite seriously, and well worth having for a friend, though
friendship with her would not be found easy by ordinary people.

"As luck would have it, I began by saying something which might have
given her mortal offence." He related the incident of the paper-mill.
"Nothing could have been better. She must be sickened with toadyism,
and I could see she found my way a refreshing contrast. It made clear
to her at once that I met her in a perfectly independent spirit. If we
didn't like each other, good-bye, and no harm done. But, as it proved,
we got on very well indeed. In a fortnight's time I am to go down and
stay at Rivenoak."

"Really? In a fortnight? She must have taken to yo