“No,” he said, “oh, no. Where are you staying? I’ll look you up——”
“I’ll come with you,” said Spenser. “The walk will be delightful, and I am glad to see you.”
“All right, come on then,” said Lord Neville, and the two started in the direction of the Towers.
Spenser Churchill did most of the talking—it was almost like singing, so soft and bland and unobtrusive was the voice; Lord Neville listening rather absently, and making answers rather wide of the mark at times—for he was thinking of Doris—and when they reached the entrance to the avenue he stopped.
“I’m sorry I can’t take upon myself to ask you in to lunch, Spenser,” he said, with a laugh; “but my uncle might—and probably would—consider it a liberty, and have you, possibly both of us, chucked out; and, though I shouldn’t mind it, you mightn’t like it, you know.”
“I really think I’ll take the risk” said Spenser. “The marquis and I are such old friends, that I—yes, I’ll chance being expelled.”
“All right,” assented Lord Neville, as before. “Come on, then; and don’t blame me if the consequences are as I suggested.”
“No, I won’t blame you,” said Spenser Churchill.
They made their way to the hall, and the groom of the chambers and the footmen received them as if they were royal visitors.
Lord Neville said: