favour. The thought that
Lashmar might perchance regard him as a rival pricked his pride; not
for a moment could he rest under that misconstruction. He left the
field clear, and drew breath like a man who has shaken off an
embarrassment.

On the way home he saw how natural it was that such a man as Lashmar
should woo Miss Tomalin. He might be a little too good for her; yet
there was no knowing. That half grim, half grotesque Lady Ogram had
evidently taken Lashmar under her wing, and probably would make no
objection to the alliance; perhaps she had even projected it. Utterly
without idle self-consciousness, Dymchurch had perceived no special
significance in Mrs. Toplady's social advances to him. The sense of
poverty was so persistent in his mind that he had never seen himself as
a possible object of matrimonial intrigue; nor had he ever come in
contact with a social rank where such designs must have been forced on
his notice. Well, his "season" was over; he laughed as he looked back
upon it. When Lashmar and Miss Tomalin were married, he might or might
not see something of them. The man had ideas: it remained to be proved
whether his strength was equal to his ambitions.

A few days later, Dymchurch heard that one of his sisters was not very
well. She had caught a cold, and could not shake it off. This decided
him to plan a summer holiday. He wrote and asked whether the girls
would go with him to a certain quiet spot high in the Alps, and how
soon they could leave home. The answer came that they would prefer not
to go away until the middle of July, as a friend was about to visit
them, whom they hoped to keep for two or three weeks. Disappointed at
the delay, Dymchurch tried to settle down to his books; but books had
lost their savour. He was consumed by dreary indolence.

Then came a note from Mrs. Toplady. He knew the writing, and opened the
envelope with a petulant grimace, muttering "No, no, no!"

"Dear Lord Dymchurch," wrote his correspondent, "I wonder whether you
are going to the performance of 'As You Like It' at Lady Honeybourne's
on the 24th? It promises to be very good. If only they have fine
weather, the play will be a real delight in that exquisite Surrey
woodland. I do so hope we may meet you there. By we I mean Miss Tomalin
and myself. Lady Ogram has gone back into the country, her health being
unequal to London strain, and her niece stays with me for a little. You
have heard, no doubt, of the engagemen