It was impossible to hold aloof from such light-hearted merry-making, and Mordaunt went with the tide.  Perhaps instinct warned him that it was the surest way to overcome that barrier of shyness, unacknowledged but none the less existent, that kept him still a stranger to his little fiancee’s confidence.  Her dainty daring notwithstanding, he was aware of the fact that she was yet half afraid of him, though when he came to seek the cause of this he was utterly at a loss.

When he and Rupert were left alone together after dinner, they were already far advanced upon the road to intimacy.  It was the result of his deliberate intention; for though a girl might keep him outside her inner sanctuary, it seldom happened in the world of men that Trevor Mordaunt could not obtain a free pass whithersoever he cared to go.

Rupert tossed aside his gaiety with characteristic suddenness almost as soon as the door had closed upon his sister and cousin.

“I suppose you want to get to business,” he said abruptly.  “I’m ready when you are.”

Mordaunt moved into an easy-chair.  “Yes, I want to make a suggestion,” he said deliberately.  “But it is not a matter that you and I can carry through single-handed.  I want to talk about it, that’s all.”

Rupert, his elbows on the table, nodded and stared rather gloomily into his coffee-cup.  “I suppose it’ll take about a year to fix it up.  Anything with a lawyer in it does.”

Mordaunt watched him through his cigarette smoke for a few seconds in silence, until in fact with a slight movement of impatience Rupert turned.

“I’m no good at fencing,” he said, rather irritably.  “You want Kellerton Old Park, Chris tells me.  Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Then”—­he sat back with a laugh that sounded rather forced—­“that ends it,” he declared.  “The place has gone to rack and ruin.  You can’t walk up the avenue for the thistles.  They are shoulder high.  And as for the house, it’s not much more than a rubbish-heap.  It would cost more than it’s worth to make it habitable.  We have been trying to get rid of the place ever since my father’s death, but it’s no manner of use.  People get let in by the agent’s description and go and see it, but they all come away shuddering.  You’ll do the same.”

“I shall certainly go and see it,” Mordaunt said.  “Perhaps I shall persuade Chris to motor down with me some day.  But in any case, if you are selling—­I’m buying.”

Rupert jumped up suddenly.  “I won’t take you seriously till you’ve seen it,” he declared.

“Oh yes, you will,” Mordaunt returned imperturbably.  “Because, you see, I am serious.  But we haven’t come to business yet.  I want to know what price you are asking for this ancestral dwelling of yours.”

“We would take almost anything,” Rupert said.

He had begun to fidget about the room with a restlessness that was feverish.  Mordaunt remained in his easy-chair, calmly smoking, obviously awaiting the information for which he had asked.