“Easy, easy!” laughed Bathurst.  “Why exceed the speed limit in this reckless fashion?  You are Sir Eustace Studley?  I am very pleased to meet you.”

He held out his hand to Sir Eustace, and gave him the grasp of good-fellowship.  It seemed to Dinah that the very atmosphere changed magically with the coming of her father.  No difficult situation ever dismayed him.  He and Sir Eustace were not dissimilar in this respect.  Whatever the circumstances, they both knew how to hold their own with absolute ease.  It was a faculty which she would have given much to possess.

Sir Eustace was laughing in his careless, well-bred way.  “It’s rather a shame to spring the matter on you like this,” he said.  “I ought to have waited to ask your consent to the engagement, but I am afraid I am not a very patient person, and I wanted to make sure of your daughter before we parted.  We are staying at Great Mallowes—­at the Royal Stag.  May I come over to-morrow and put things on a more business-like footing?”

“Oh, don’t hurry away!” said Bathurst easily.  “Sit down and have some tea with us!  It is something of a surprise certainly but a very agreeable one.  Lydia, what about tea?  Or perhaps you prefer a whisky and soda?”

“Tea, thanks,” said Sir Eustace, and seated himself with his superb air of complete assurance.

Mrs. Bathurst turned upon her daughter.  “Dinah, how many more times am I to tell you to go and see if the kettle boils?”

Dinah started, as one rudely awakened from an entrancing dream.  “I am sorry,” she murmured in confusion.  “I forgot.”

She fled from the room with the words, and her mother, with dark brows drawn, looked after her for a moment, then sat down facing Sir Eustace.

“I should like to know,” she said aggressively, “what you are prepared to do for her.”

Sir Eustace smiled in his aloof, slightly supercilious fashion.  He had been more or less prepared for Dinah’s mother, but the temptation to address her as “My good woman” was almost more than he could withstand.

“Will you not allow me,” he said, icily courteous, “to settle this important matter with Mr. Bathurst to-morrow?  He will then be in a position to explain it to you.”

Mrs. Bathurst made a movement of fierce impatience.  She had been put in her place by this stranger and furiously she resented it.  But the man was a baronet, and a marvellous catch for a son-in-law; and she did not dare to put her resentment into words.

She got up therefore, and flounced angrily to the door.  Sir Eustace arose without haste and with a stretch of his long arm opened it for her.

She flung him a glance, half-hostile, half-awed, as she went through.  She had a malignant hatred for the upper class, despite the fact that her own husband was a member thereof.  And yet she held it in unwilling respect.  Sir Eustace’s nonchalantly administered snub was far harder to bear than any open rudeness from a man of her own standing would have been.