"Thanks; but I'd rather find her for myself."
"A man never finds a woman of that sort. He doesn't know her when he sees her. He doesn't know any woman when he sees her. You leave it to me, Tony. Time is getting on, and we can't allow you to degenerate into a selfish old club bachelor, thinking of nothing but your dinner. I shall begin at once. I know what would suit you far better than you can know yourself."
The wild idea that Jenny Liddon would suit him never crossed her mind for a moment, as a matter of course.
It was not quite seven o'clock when they reached town, and they got home to Toorak before it was time to dress for dinner. As the carriage rolled up to the door, Mrs. Churchill swam into the hall, with her fine laces foaming about her, and cast herself into her stepson's arms, as she was lawfully privileged to do.
"Well, mother," he cried gaily, as he kissed her curly-fringed brow—a thing he never did unless she made him—"and how's your little self? And how are the brats?"
The brats came headlong downstairs, and flung themselves upon him from all sides at once.
"Oh, Tony! Tony! We are so glad you are back, dear Tony! What have you brought us, Tony?"