The time flew, and when seven o'clock struck by the little silver chiming clock on Mrs. Norman's writing table the Major got reluctantly upon his feet.
"Oh, must you be going? Now, won't you take pity on me and stay to my frugal little supper? It will be such a treat to have company. I am sure the Admiral will spare you to-night. Just to celebrate my first day with the Thanning hounds. And that dear boy Austin sent me in a brace of partridges, so there will be just a picking for each of us. You don't know what distaste I have for my food when I invariably sit down to eat it alone. I picture your cheerful dinner going on, and the amicable and interesting conversation upon the sayings and doings of each one of you during the day, and then I sigh and try to be content with my lonely lot."
"We hadn't a very amicable luncheon to-day," said the Major with a short laugh.
He looked round the cosy firelit room, and at the pretty bewitching little woman before him, and he contrasted it with the big dining-room at home, and the Admiral's politics. He saw Sidney linking her arm in her father's, and going off to the study with him after dinner and throwing a laughing word at him over her shoulder:
"Now, Uncle Ted, don't shut yourself up the whole evening in your workshop. And don't burn it to the ground, for I know you have a nap over your pipe."
The words of Mrs. Norman rang in his ears: 'Three in family is rather an awkward number—one invariably goes to the wall.' Why should he trudge home to make the outside third, when here was one who wanted, who appreciated, him?
Mrs. Norman saw his hesitation.
"Now you're going to say 'Yes.' I won't be refused."
She pulled her bell. The maid appeared.
"Major Urquhart is staying to supper," she said.