“I wonder Sir Richard does not live in a flat near his club,” suggested her ladyship in diamonds and velvet; “so much more comfortable and up-to-date.”
“Yes; but then this is the family town house, and he is never quite sure that he won’t marry.”
“Marry!” repeated Lady Billing, “what an idea!”
“It is his favourite threat”—and Leila laughed—“if the cooking is bad, the coal indifferent, or the servants too autocratic.”
“But isn’t your brother his heir?” opening her eyes to their widest extent. “How would he like that?”
“Oh, I really don’t think Owen would care a straw; he is rather happy-go-lucky, and never thinks of the future. After all, Uncle Dick is not an old man, and I don’t see why he should not please himself. I may dance at his wedding yet!”
“I suppose there is no particular lady in the case?” inquired the other judicially.
Miss Wynyard smiled, and shook her head.
“Do you know, my dear, that you have made an important conquest this evening?” Then, in answer to Miss Wynyard’s gaze of amazement, “Mr. Kesters,” she added, with impressive solemnity.
“Mr.—Kesters?” repeated Leila.