Lady Denby shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head.
"It's a pity that Yorke does not know what is good for him. He could have lobster cutlets and '73 claret for the rest of his life, and all manner of good things, if he would only throw his handkerchief in the right direction."
Lady Eleanor smiled up at her almost defiantly.
"It is of no use your taunting me," she said. "You are right; if he threw his handkerchief, as you put it, I should be only too glad to go on my knees to pick it up."
A servant came to the door, with a card on a salver.
Lady Denby took it, and glanced at it.
"It is Mr. Ralph Duncombe," she said.
"I cannot see him this morning. Say that I am not at home."
Lady Denby signed to the footman to wait.
"Ought you not to see him?" she said in a low voice. "It may be important business."