ith the gleam of some new
idea on his face. "I might bring my sister," he said. "My mother hates
Scotland. She doesn't go about, either, even in England. But I daresay
Winnie would enjoy it immensely. She has a great opinion of you, you
know."

"I only saw her that once," Thorpe remarked. Some thought behind his
words lent a musing effect to the tone in which they were uttered. The
brother's contemplative smile seemed a comment upon this tone.

"Women are curious creatures," he said. "They take fancies and dislikes
as swiftly and irresponsibly as cloud-shadows shift and change on a
mountain-side in April. But I happen to know that my sister does like
you immensely. So does my mother," he added, with another little smile.
He continued to regard Thorpe's face, but there was an increasing
uncertainty in his glance. "You've put on flesh, haven't you?" he
ventured, after a brief pause. There was the implication in his voice
and manner that he observed changes which disconcerted him.

"Not much, I guess," replied the other, carelessly. "I've been
sticking to the City pretty closely. That's all. There's nothing that
a fortnight's rest won't put right. I should like it first-rate to have
you and your sister come. I'll let you know which place I decide upon.
Very likely you can manage to bring her at the same time that some other
ladies will be there. I expect Lady Cressage and Miss Madden, you know."

Lord Plowden stared at his friend. "Are they back? Have they returned to
England?" he asked, confusedly.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Thorpe pursued, with an accession of amiability.
He visibly had pleasure in the disclosure of the other's ignorance.
"They've been in London for two or three weeks. That is, Miss Madden has
been taking flying trips to see cathedrals and so on, but Lady Cressage
has stayed in town. Their long journeyings have rather done her up."
He looked Plowden straight in the eye, and added with an air of
deliberation: "I'm rather anxious about her health."

The nobleman frankly abandoned his efforts to maintain an undisturbed
front. "You--are--anxious," he repeated, frowning in displeased
wonderment.

"Why yes--why not?" demanded Thorpe, with a sudden growl in his voice.
As he covered the handsome Viscount with his heavy, intent gaze,
impulses of wrath stirred within him. Why should this fop of a lordling
put on this air of contemptuous incredulity? "What is there so amazing
about that? Why shouldn't I be anx