prejudice against certain forms of moral failure, and excused it on the ground that it was rather a taste than a principle.  He looked directly into Stafford’s eyes as the red glow of the cigar flamed and faded between the two heads so close together, and in his own eyes there was the same point of smiling ironic cruelty that Isabel had read in them—­the same as Stafford himself had read in them not so many years ago.  But apparently Stafford read nothing in them now.

“Sit down, won’t you? you’ve had a fagging day.”  Lawrence indicated the chairs left on the lawn.  “Hear me beginning to play the host!  As a matter of fact, you must know your way about the place far better than I do.  Although we’re cousins, Bernard and I have seen next to nothing of each other since we were boys at school.  You, Val, must know him better than any one except his wife.  I want you to tell me about him.  I’m in dangerous country and I need a map.”

“I should be inclined to vary the metaphor a little and call him an uncharted sea,” Val smiled as he threw one leg over the other and settled himself among his cushions.  He was dead tired, having been up since six in the morning and on his feet or in the saddle all day.  “But I’m at your service, subject always to the proviso that I’m Bernard’s agent, which makes my position rather delicate.  What is it you want to know?”

Since it was whether Clowes behaved decently to his wife, Lawrence shifted in his chair and flicked the ash from his cigar.  “Imprimis, whether Bernard has a trout rod I can borrow.  I didn’t know there was any fishing to be had or I’d have brought my own.”

“You can have mine:  I scarcely ever touch a line now.  Certainly not in hay-harvest!  I’ll send it down for you the first thing—­” Was it possible that he was as insouciant as he professed to be?

“Oh, thanks very much,” Hyde cut in swiftly, but I couldn’t borrow yours.  I’ll find out if Clowes can’t lend me one.”

“As you please.”  Stafford left it at that and passed on.  “But I don’t fancy Bernard has ever thrown a line in his life, he is too energetic to make a fisherman.  By the way, I suppose you won’t be staying any length of time at Wanhope?”

Lawrence smiled, the wish was father to the thought:  that was more like the Val of old times!

“That depends—­mainly on my cousin, to be frank:  I suspect he’ll soon get sick of having a third person in the house.”

“Oh, probably.  But you needn’t take any notice of that.”  Lawrence looked up in surprise.  “But, perhaps, that is none of my business.  Or will you let me give you one warning, since you’ve asked for a map?  Don’t be too prompt to take Bernard at his word.  He may be very rude to you and yet not want you to go.  He sacks Barry every few weeks.  In fact now I come to think of it I’m under notice myself, for last time I saw him he told me to look out for another job.  He said what he wanted was a practical man who knew a little about farming.”