The gentleman thus familiarly addressed had grey hair and walked with a stoop in the shoulders.  His age was sixty, but he looked rather older.  Lady Ogram, who had known him as a boy, still saw him in that light.  His pleasant face, full of sagacity and good-humour, wore a gently deprecating smile as he stepped forward, and whether intentionally or not—­he smoothed with one hand his long, grizzled beard.

“This is military!” he exclaimed.  “Are not a few minutes’ grace granted to a man of peace, when he comes to eat your salt?—­And how are you, my dear lady?  How are you?”

“Never was better in my life, Willy!” shrilled Lady Ogram, her voice slipping out of control in her excitement.  “Do you know who this is?”

“I could make a guess.  The face speaks for itself.”

“Ha!  You see the likeness!—­May, shake hands with Sir William, and make friends with him; he and I knew each other a lifetime before you were born.—­And this is Mr. Lashmar, our future Member for Hollingford.”

“If the voters are as kind to me as Lady Ogram,” said Dyce, laughing.

The baronet gave his hand, and regarded the young man with shrewd observation.  Sir William had no part in public life, and was not predisposed in favour of parliamentary ambitions; he lived quietly in a London suburb, knowing only a few congenial people, occupying himself with the history of art, on which he was something of an authority.  His father had been a friend of Sir Quentin Ogram; and thus arose his early familiarity with the lady of Rivenoak.

They went to table in an adjoining room, and for a few minutes there was talk between the hostess and Sir William about common acquaintances.  Lashmar, the while, kept turning his look towards Miss Tomalin.  With his astonishment had begun to mingle feelings of interest and attraction.  He compared Miss Tomalin’s personal appearance with that of Constance Bride, and at once so hardened towards the latter that he could not bring his eyes to regard her again.  At the same time he perceived, with gratification, that Lady Ogram’s niece was not heedless of his presence; once at least their looks come to the encounter, with quick self-recovery on the young lady’s part, and a conscious smile.  Dyce began to think her very good-looking indeed.  Sir William’s remark recurred to him, and he saw an undeniable resemblance in the girl’s features to those of Lady Ogram’s early portrait.  He grew nervously desirous to know something about her.

Presently conversation directed itself towards the subject with which Lashmar was connected.  Sir William appeared by no means eager to discuss political or social themes, but May Tomalin could not rest till they were brought forward, and her aunt, who seemed to have no desire but to please her and put her into prominence, helped them on.

“Are you going to stand as a Socialist?” asked the baronet of Lashmar, with some surprise, when May’s talk had sufficiently confused him.