r sake. But before I was
given the chance, I was given the shoulder. Now mark how a malicious
Fate maketh a mock of me. But three days later I run full tilt into my
lady, I, the same Anthony Lyveden--but with my livery on. In case that
should not be enough, I presently return to the inn, to learn that I
have missed her by forty-eight hours._ Veux-tu m'en croire?

_Beneath the unfair strain my poor vocabulary broke down. Indeed, I
soon had no alternative but to repeat myself, thus violating what I
know to be one of your most sacred rules._

Assez, j'en finis.

_You are so distant and it will be so long before this letter reaches
you, that it requires an effort steadily to regard you as a confidant.
Already that impression of you is fainter than it was when I picked up
my pen. A reply from you, Toby, would do much to revive it--would, in
fact, turn into substance the shadow with which I am, rather
desperately, cheating my common-sense._

A toi, mon beau,
_ANTHONY LYVEDEN._

Having addressed this letter to Australia, Lyveden made the best of an
enamelled basin and a mirror, which was not quite so good as one which,
once upon a time, his servant had purchased in Port Said for five
piastres. Then he put on his very expensive plum-coloured coat and
descended twelve flights of stairs.

Five minutes later he opened the front door, confessed to an irreverent
gentleman in blue and yellow that "Ole Flat-Feet" was at home, and,
after conducting them to the first floor, ushered "The Honourable Mrs.
George Wrangle, Miss Wrangle, Miss Sarah Wrangle" into the presence
itself. With a contempt for tradition, the Marchioness not only
extended to each of the ladies her large right hand, but withheld no
one of its fingers.

The identity of the guests was then communicated to the butler, whose
supervision of the service of tea depended upon the visitor's position
in the table of precedence. That of Mrs. Wrangle, apparently, fell
dismally short of the standard which the great man imposed, for, upon
hearing her name, he stared indignantly upon a cat which was cleaning
itself upon the hearth of his parlour, and then resumed the perusal of
the _Morning Advertiser_ in contemptuous silence.

Without more ado, Anthony repaired to the pantry. Five minutes later
he and the second footman took up the tea.

"Is Lord Pomfret in?" said the Marchioness.

"I will see, my lady," said Lyveden.

"Desire him to come in to tea.