“Oh, good morning,” said Lord Caterham. “Good morning. Nice day.”
“The weather is delightful,” said Mr. Fish.
He helped himself to coffee. By way of food, he took a piece of dry toast.
“Do I hear correctly that the embargo is removed?” he asked after a minute or two. “That we are all free to depart?”
“Yes—er—yes,” said Lord Caterham. “As a matter of fact, I hoped, I mean that I shall be delighted”—his conscience drove him on—“only too delighted if you will stay on for a little.”
“Why, Lord Caterham——”
“It’s been a beastly visit, I know,” Lord Caterham hurried on. “Too bad. Shan’t blame you for wanting to run away.”
“You misjudge me, Lord Caterham. The associations have been painful, no one could deny that point. But the English country life, as lived in the mansions of the great, has a powerful attraction for me. I am interested in the study of those conditions. It is a thing we lack completely in America. I shall be only too delighted to accept your vurry kind invitation and stay on.”
“Oh, well,” said Lord Caterham, “that’s that. Absolutely delighted, my dear fellow, absolutely delighted.”
Spurring himself on to a false geniality of manner, Lord Caterham murmured something about having to see his bailiff and escaped from the room.