“Rather touching, isn’t it?” said the youth, smiling benevolently.  “Of course you know—­there’s a romance, or rather was—­long ago.  My mother knew all about it.  Since old Marsham’s death, Lady Lucy’s never done a thing without Ferrier to advise her.  Why she hasn’t married him, that’s the puzzle.—­But she’s a curious woman, is Lady Lucy.  Looks so soft, but—­” He pursed up his lips with an important air.

“Anyhow, she depends a lot on Ferrier.  He’s constantly here whenever he can be spared from London and Parliament.  He got Oliver into Parliament—­his first seat I mean—­for Manchester.  The Ferriers are very big people up there, and old Ferrier’s recommendation of him just put him in straight—­no trouble about it!  Oh! and before that when he was at Eton—­and Oxford too—­Ferrier looked after him like a father.—­Used to have him up for exeats—­and talk to the Head—­and keep his mother straight—­like an old brick.  Ferrier’s a splendid chap!”

Diana warmly agreed.

“Perhaps you know,” pursued the chatterbox, “that this place is all hers—­Lady Lucy’s.  She can leave it and her money exactly as she pleases.  It is to be hoped she won’t leave much of it to Mrs. Fotheringham. Isn’t that a woman!  Ah! you don’t know her yet.  Hullo!—­there’s Marsham after me.”

For Marsham was beckoning from the hall.  They returned hurriedly.

“Who made Oliver that waistcoat?” said Lady Niton, putting on her spectacles.

“I did,” said Alicia Drake, as she came up, with her arm round the younger of Lady Niton’s nieces.  “Isn’t it becoming?”

“Hum!” said Lady Niton, in a gruff tone, “young ladies can always find new ways of wasting their time.”

Marsham approached Diana.

“We’re just off,” he said, smiling.  “The clouds are lifting.  You’ll come?”

“What, to lunch?” said Lady Niton, just behind.  “Of course they will.  What else is there for the women to do?  Congratulate you on your waistcoat, Oliver.”

“Isn’t it superb?” he said, drawing himself up with mock majesty, so as to show it off.  “I am Alicia’s debtor for life.”

Yet a careful ear might have detected something a little hollow in the tone.

Lady Niton looked at him, and then at Miss Drake, evidently restraining her sharp tongue for once, though with difficulty.  Marsham lingered a moment making some last arrangements for the day with his sister.  Diana noticed that he towered over the men among whom he stood; and she felt herself suddenly delighting in his height, in his voice which was remarkably refined and agreeable, in his whole capable and masterful presence.  Bobbie Forbes standing beside him was dwarfed to insignificance, and he seemed to be conscious of it, for he rose on his toes a little, involuntarily copying Marsham’s attitude, and looking up at him.

As the shooters departed, Forbes bringing up the rear, Lady Niton laid her wrinkled hand on his arm.