"Is it?" and he laughed ironically. "Well, I'm glad you mentioned it!"
"Of course this is a particularly nasty day! Don't sample us by a beastly long-shore wind. By the by, you play polo—your regiment had a strong team. I used to see your name in matches. I'll find you ponies."
"It's most awfully good of you, Cousin Fred; polo and dances are all right—but you know what I'm out for, and they are not my job."
"No, but after a lapse of thirty years, a few weeks one way or the other can't possibly matter, and Fanny and I would be mortally hurt if you start off without paying us a visit. We want to get to know you—and you want to get to know something of this blessed old country."
As the young man looked half persuaded he continued:
"Anyway, my dear fellow, you will never find your Uncle, and you may take my word for it. I've not lived out here for twenty-nine years without knowing what I am talking about. Now tell me something about yourself, and Mallender, and your poor father."
"Oh, yes! Well, you see, he had been ailing the last five years—the result of a bad fall from his horse—and he was greatly changed latterly. He could not bear to see anyone, would lie all day staring before him, and took no interest in any mortal thing!"
"No, not since your mother died, that I can well understand. You remember her, of course?"
The next moment Colonel Tallboys, who was proud of his tact, could have kicked himself. Why, the boy was fifteen when she died! Geoffrey made no reply, but he suddenly looked down, and his face seemed to quiver, and go white.
"What a lovely face! yes, and a lovely soul! There never was anyone like her." The speaker's voice sounded a little husky.