‘The past will be forgotten,’ was his reply, spoken sadly and quietly.  And now she seems to be more at her ease.

‘Have some tea, Jimmy,’ says Philippa as he approaches.

‘No thanks, it is too hot,’ he replies.

‘Come and sit then,’ suggests Mabel pushing forward an empty chair, into which he sinks.

‘Well, lazy boy, what have you been doing,’ this from Lippa who is eating strawberries with apparent relish.

‘Nothing,’ is the yawned reply.

‘Not even thinking of me,’ and Lippa looks coquettishly at him from under her large shady hat.

‘No, indeed, why should I, but you may as well spare me one strawberry.’

‘Certainly not,’ says she, ‘this is my last one’ (gradually raising it to her lips), ‘not unless you say, you thought of me, all the time.’

’Oh, well, if you must!  I thought of no one but you, I saw you in every one I met, even the gardener.’

‘That’s rude,’ she says, ‘but you may as well have this,’ extending to him the coveted strawberry, with an adorable smile.

‘What a silly child you are,’ is all the thanks she gets.

But some one has driven up, in a very old fly, to the front door and Mrs Dalrymple is watching to see who it is.

‘Chubby,’ she exclaims as a man gets out clothed in an extraordinary check suit.  ‘No one else could have clothes like that.’  There is no doubt about its being Lord Helmdon, he has caught sight of them and is coming towards them, looking decidedly hot and dusty.

‘Do look at him,’ says Paul, though there is absolutely no need, as they are all gazing at him.

‘Hullo,’ says Jimmy, ‘who would have thought of seeing you here!’

‘Eh! what,’ is the inevitable answer.

‘Dear Mrs Dalrymple,’ he goes on, shaking her vigourously by the hand, ’I am stopping not far from here,—­I thought you would not mind my coming over to see you, what!’

‘She didn’t say a word,’ says Jimmy still reclining in the armchair, ‘you didn’t give her time.’

Mabel shakes with suppressed laughter, and Lippa’s mouth is contorted into the most extraordinary shape, but she says calmly, ’I’m so glad to see you, won’t you stop the night now you are here?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t, ah, how do you do?’ he says to Mabel, ’well, Paul, pretty fit, eh?’

‘Decidedly so,’ replies he.

Clotilde has been sitting quite silent longing to get away, but Paul will not look at her, and, oh! what shall she do, Philippa is introducing her to the newcomer.

‘Chubby allow me to introduce you to Paul’s wife.’

‘What!’ he exclaims.

Jimmy who is in fear and trembling as to what he may say, kicks him violently on the shins under cover of the tablecloth, which sends him sprawling on his knees before Clotilde.

‘I—­er, I beg your pardon,’ he says, ’but really, Jimmy, I wish you would keep your legs to yourself.’