“He would probably be as insufferable as Nap if he weren’t,” rejoined the Major gloomily.  “I can’t think what the County are coming to.  They will accept anybody nowadays, it seems to me.  I even met that little bounder at the Rifle Club the other day.  Heaven knows how he got in.  Dollars again, I suppose, confound his audacity!”

His partner made a slight movement of uneasiness.  “I wonder where he is.  I haven’t seen him for some time.  I hope he isn’t anywhere within earshot.”

“Not he!  He is stowed away in some corner well out of the way with his latest conquest.  He won’t turn up again this evening.  He never does when once he goes to earth—­the wily young fox.”

“Who is his latest conquest, I wonder?” mused the woman.  “I thought it was Mrs. Damer.  But I have just seen her dancing with young Waring.”

“Mrs. Damer!  Why, that was the day before yesterday!” The Major laughed unpleasantly. “‘Anyone for a change, but no one for long,’ is his motto.  The fellow is an infernal bounder through and through.  He will get a sound hiding one of these days, and serve him jolly well right, say I!”

“My dear Major, how you hate him!  Anyone would think he had tried to flirt with Violet.”

“He’d better,” growled the Major.

There came a slight sound from the darkness of the alcove, as though someone faintly chuckled.

“What’s that?” asked the woman’s voice nervously.

“Nothing—­nothing!” said the Major testily.  “Somebody laughing in the hall.  I wonder where my wife is.  I shall clear out soon.  I’m tired of this show.  Haven’t had a decent dance all the evening.  Shouldn’t think you have either.  They ought to build a Town Hall in this place, and do the thing properly.”

“There is some talk of it, you know.  Now that there is a millionaire in the neighbourhood it really might be done.  The Carfaxes would help too, I am sure.  Sir Giles is very open-handed.”

“Drunken beast!” commented the Major.  “A pretty spectacle he has been making of himself to-night.  He is sitting in a corner of the refreshment-room now absolutely incapable.  He reached the noisy stage very early in the evening.  I am not sure that he even came sober.”

“No!  Isn’t it too pitiful for words?  That young wife of his!  I can’t think how she endures it.  It must be positive martyrdom.”

“Lady Carfax is a fool!” said the Major crossly.  “I can’t stand these martyrs.  If she leads a dog’s life it’s her own fault.  She’s a fool to put up with it.”

“Perhaps she can’t help herself,” pleaded the woman.

“Stuff and nonsense!  No woman need be the slave of a drunken sot like that.  It’s a downright offence to me to be in the same room with the fellow.  He always reeks of drink.  And she has, or professes to have, a certain amount of refinement.  Not much, I dare say.  She was nothing but his bailiff’s daughter, you know, and people of that class don’t generally suffer from an exaggerated sense of duty.  She probably sticks to the man because she wants to keep in with the County.  I don’t like the woman, never did.  Her airs and graces always rub me up wrong way.  Why couldn’t Sir Giles have married in his own set?  He probably wouldn’t be so fond of the whiskey bottle now if he had.”