“Hullo!” he exclaimed, as he accosted her. “I did not know you were coming here to-night. Rachel told me she lunched with you to-day, and you were alone in your glory. Whom did you come with?” And he looked as if he was expecting to see some of the party.
“I came in very good company,” she replied. “But, pray, who made you my father confessor?”
“I only wish I was! Are you going on to supper at the Candy-tufts? If so, we shall meet again.”
“No, I’m going home this moment.”
“How virtuous! Well, you’ll be in the Row to-morrow—riding—at the usual hour?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ll look out for you about ten. Good night.” And he hurried off.
“Who is that?” inquired Laurence.
“Oh, a great friend of papa’s—Lord Anthony Foster.”
“Indeed! I shouldn’t have thought they had many tastes in common.”