“Fancy glorying in your failure,” Lady Caroom said, complacently.  “Three seasons, Arranmore, have I had to drag that girl round.  I’ve washed my hands of her now.  She must look after herself.  A girl who refuses one of the richest young men in England because she didn’t like his collars is incorrigible.”

“It was not his collars, mother,” Sybil objected.  “It was his neck.  He was always called ‘the Giraffe.’  He had no head and all neck—­the most fatuous person, too.  I hate fools.”

“That is where you lack education, dear,” Lady Caroom answered.  “A fool is the most useful person—­for a husband.”

Sybil glanced towards Brooks with a little sigh, and, catching a glimpse of his expression, burst out laughing.

“Mother, you must really not let your tongue run away with you.  Mr. Brooks is believing every word you say.  You needn’t,” she murmured in a discreet undertone.  “Mother and I chaff one another terribly, but we’re really very nicely-behaved persons—­for our station in life.”

“Lady Caroom has such a delightfully easy way of romancing,” Brooks said.

Sybil nodded.

“It’s quite true,” she answered.  “She ought to write the prospectuses for gold mines and things.”

Arranmore smiled across the table at Brooks.

“This,” he said, “is what I have had to endure for the last six weeks.  Do you wonder that I am getting balder, or that I set all my people to work tonight to try and find some one to suffer with me?”

“He’ll be so dull when we’ve gone,” Lady Caroom sighed.

“You’ve no idea how we’ve improved him,” Sybil murmured.  “He used to read Owen Meredith after dinner, and go to sleep.  By the bye, where are you going when we leave Enton?”

Lord Arranmore hesitated.

“Well, I really am not sure,” he said.  “You have alarmed me.  Don’t go.”

Lady Caroom laughed.

“My dear man,” she said, “we must!  I daren’t offend the Redcliffes.  He’s my trustee, and he’ll never let me overdraw a penny unless I’m civil to him.  If I were you I should go to the Riviera.  We’ll lend you our cottage at Lugiano.  It has been empty for a year.”

“Come and be hostess,” he said.  “I promise you that I will not hesitate then.”

She shook her head towards Sybil.

“How can I marry that down there?” she demanded.  “No young men who are really respectable go abroad at this time of the year.  They are all hunting or shooting.  The Riviera is thronged with roues and invalids and adventurers, and we don’t want any of them.  Dear me, what sacrifices a grown-up daughter does entail.  This coming season shall be your last, Sybil.  I won’t drag on round again.  I’m really getting ashamed of it.”

“Isn’t she dreadful?” Sybil murmured to Brooks.  “I hope you will come to Enton before we leave.”

“It is very kind of you, Lady Sybil,” Brooks said, “but you must remember that I am not like most of the men you meet.  I have to work hard, especially just now.”