But there arose to him the question whether all this had not arrived too late!  Of what good is it to open up the true delights of life to a man when you have so scotched and wounded him that he has no capability left of enjoying anything?  As he sat lonely with his pipe in his mouth he thought for a while that he would decline the invitation.  The idea of selling Chowton Farm and of establishing himself at some Antipodes in which the name of Mary Masters should never have been heard, was growing upon him.  Of what use would the friendship of Lord Rufford be to him at the other side of the globe?

At last, however, the hope of giving that friendly nod to Runciman overcame him, and he determined to go.  He wrote a note, which caused him no little thought, presenting his compliments to Lord Rufford and promising to meet his lordship’s party at Dillsborough Wood.

The shooting went off very well and Larry behaved himself with propriety.  He wanted the party to come in and lunch, and had given sundry instructions to his mother on that head.  But they did not remain near to his place throughout the day, and his efforts in that direction were not successful.  Between five and six he went home, and at half-past seven appeared at the Bush attired in his best.  He never yet had sat down with a lord, and his mind misgave him a little; but he had spirit enough to look about for Runciman,—­who, however, was not to be seen.

Sir George was not there, but the party had been made up, as regarded the dinner, by the addition of Captain Glomax, who had returned from hunting.  Captain Glomax was in high glee, having had,—­as he declared,—­the run of the season.  When a Master has been deserted on any day by the choice spirits of his hunt he is always apt to boast to them that he had on that occasion the run of the season.  He had taken a fox from Impington right across to Hogsborough, which, as every one knows, is just on the borders of the U.R.U., had then run him for five miles into Lord Chiltern’s country, and had killed him in the centre of the Brake Hunt, after an hour and a half, almost without a check.  “It was one of those straight things that one doesn’t often see now-a-days,” said Glomax.

“Any pace?” asked Lord Rufford.

“Very good, indeed, for the first forty minutes.  I wish you had all been there.  It was better fun I take it than shooting rabbits.”

Then Hampton put the Captain through his facings as to time and distance and exact places that had been passed, and ended by expressing an opinion that he could have kicked his hat as fast on foot.  Whereupon the Captain begged him to try, and hinted that he did not know the country.  In answer to which Hampton offered to bet a five-pound note that young Jack Runce would say that the pace had been slow.  Jack was the son of the old farmer whom the Senator had so disgusted, and was supposed to know what he was about on a horse.  But Glomax declined the bet saying