“I never thought him that.”
“He is, though. Well, look at this. He asks Blodwell, and Vane, and me—at least, he didn’t ask me, but Blodwell did—to make a party here. We agree. The next moment—hey, presto! he’s off at a tangent!”
Neaera could not make up her mind whether Lord Mapledurham was giving this explanation merely to account for his own presence or also for her information.
“The fact is, you see,” the Marquis resumed, “his affairs are rather troublesome. He’s out of favour with the authorities, you know—Mrs. Pocklington.”
“Does he mind about Mrs. Pocklington?”
“He minds about Miss Pocklington, and I suspect——”
“Yes?”
“That she minds about him. I met Pocklington at the club yesterday, and he told me his people had gone abroad. I said it was rather sudden, but Pocklington turned very gruff, and said ‘Not at all.’ Of course that wasn’t true.”
“Oh, I hope she will be good to him,” said Neaera. “Fancy, if I were the cause——”