ess which made it
much more amusing than offensive; and a feminine charm in her, striving
to prevail over incongruous elements, made clear appeal to the
instincts of the other sex.

"That is very encouraging," was Lashmar's reply. "If only one's
thoughts can be of any help to others--"

"What time is it?" broke in Lady Ogram. "Why doesn't that man come?
What business has he to keep us waiting?"

"It's only just half-past one," said Miss Bride.

"Then he ought to be here." She turned to Lashmar. "I'm expecting a
friend you've heard of--Sir William Amys. How long are we to sit here
waiting for him, I wonder?"

"What do you think of Herbert Spencer, Mr. Lashmar?" inquired May.

Dyce's reply was rendered doubly unnecessary by the opening of the
door, and the announcement of the awaited guest.

"Willy! Willy!" cried Lady Ogram, with indulgent reproof. "You always
used to be so punctual."

The gentleman thus familiarly addressed had grey hair and walked with a
stoop in the shoulders. His age was sixty, but he looked rather older.
Lady Ogram, who had known him as a boy, still saw him in that light.
His pleasant face, full of sagacity and good-humour, wore a gently
deprecating smile as he stepped forward, and whether intentionally or
not--he smoothed with one hand his long, grizzled beard.

"This is military!" he exclaimed. "Are not a few minutes' grace granted
to a man of peace, when he comes to eat your salt?--And how are you, my
dear lady? How are you?"

"Never was better in my life, Willy!" shrilled Lady Ogram, her voice
slipping out of control in her excitement. "Do you know who this is?"

"I could make a guess. The face speaks for itself."

"Ha! You see the likeness!--May, shake hands with Sir William, and make
friends with him; he and I knew each other a lifetime before you were
born.--And this is Mr. Lashmar, our future Member for Hollingford."

"If the voters are as kind to me as Lady Ogram," said Dyce, laughing.

The baronet gave his hand, and regarded the young man with shrewd
observation. Sir William had no part in public life, and was not
predisposed in favour of parliamentary ambitions; he lived quietly in a
London suburb, knowing only a few congenial people, occupying himself
with the history of art, on which he was something of an authority. His
father had been a friend of Sir Quentin Ogram; and thus arose his early
familiarity with the lady of Rivenoak.

They went to table in an adjoining room