“You said so,” said the marquis, coldly.
“Well, in that case, don’t you think it would be better to wait until he comes back? Letters do miscarry so, don’t they?”
The marquis smiled sardonically.
“I agree with Lady Grace,” he said. “You are a clever fellow, Spenser.”
“They do miscarry so often,” continued Spenser Churchill. “So I think, if you ask me, it will be better to keep it till he returns. That is my humble advice.”
The marquis nodded.
“And my humble advice is that you are not here when it is delivered,” he said, with a grim smile. “I have no doubt you have taken every precaution, but if Cecil should get an inkling——” He stopped, and smiled again significantly.
“Dear Cecil,” murmured Spenser Churchill; “I should so like to have stayed till he came back, and attempted to soothe and comfort him”—the marquis smiled more sardonically than before—“but,” continued Spenser Churchill, “I am sorry to say important business compels me to return to London to-morrow, so I must leave the letter in your charge. You will take every care of it? Poor Cecil! And you must be very kind and gentle with him, dear Lady Grace!”
“We will take every care of it, and Lady Grace will be very kind and gentle, no doubt,” retorted the marquis, with a sneer.