Craven rose slowly and examined the framed almanack. We were together in the library, whither he had summoned me on my return from an afternoon stroll in the park.
"Nothing keeps Con indoors," Albinia is wont to declare, and certainly that day's fog had not sufficed to do so.
"A fortnight from to-day," he said dubiously. "That brings us to—the twenty-fifth. Yes; if I am not mistaken—the twenty-fifth."
"Mrs. Romilly names the twenty-fifth," I said. "I cannot offer to go sooner. It is unfortunate; but she does not leave England for another week; and she wishes me to arrive a week later. I am afraid you will have to put up with me so long."
Without waiting for an answer, I passed out of the luxurious library into the spacious hall.
[CHAPTER II.]
AND CONSTANCE CONWAY'S.
THE SAME—continued.
February 21.
ALBINIA has a comfortable home,—so far as carpets and curtains are concerned. If only that mountain of human pomposity were not appended! But then she need never have accepted him unless she wished. Albinia went in for the man, with the carpets and curtains, of her own free-will.