“Nonsense. I heard a great deal about him the other day. He has moved from where he was living, and is quite reformed. His father is very ill. Do as I tell you. Josephs, stop half way to the hotel.”
“I say,” said Marmaduke, finding himself out-manoeuvred: “come back. There they are right ahead, confound them. What are they up to?”
“It cannot be helped,” said Douglas. “There is no escape. You must not cross: it would be pointedly rude.”
Marmaduke went on grumbling. When he attempted to pass, the Countess called his name, and greeted him with smiles.
“We want to know how your father is,” she said. “We have had such alarming accounts of him. I hope he is better.”
“They havnt told me much about him,” said Marmaduke. “There was deuced little the matter with the governor when I saw him last.”
“Wicked prodigal! What shall we do to reform him, Mr. Douglas? He has not been to see us for three years past, and during that time we have had the worst reports of him.”
“You never asked me to go and see you.”
“Silly fellow! Did you expect me to send you invitations and leave cards on you, who are one of ourselves? Come to-morrow to dinner. Your uncle the Bishop will be there; and you will see nearly all the family besides. You cannot plead that you have not been invited now. Will you come?”
“No. I cant stand the Bishop. Besides, I have taken to dining in the middle of the day.”