Lord Charles shook his head, and whistled softly.
"Rather premature that, isn't it?" he said. "Leycester doesn't seem very keen in that quarter, does he?"
Lady Longford smiled at him and showed her teeth.
"What does it matter how he seems?" she said. "It rests with her—with her. You are a nice boy, Charles, but you are not clever."
"Just exactly what my old schoolmaster used to say before he birched me," said Lord Charles.
"If you were clever, if you were anything else than unutterably stupid, you would go and see that Leycester changes his clothes," snapped the old lady. "I'll be bound he is sitting or lounging about in those wet things still!"
"A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse," said Lord Charles, laughing. "I'll go and do as I am bidden. He will probably tell me to go and mind my own business, but here goes," and he walked off toward the house.
He found Leycester in the hands of his valet, being rapidly transferred from wet flannels to orthodox morning attire, and apparently the valet was not having a particularly easy time of it.
Lord Charles sank into a chair, and watched the performance with amused interest.
"What's the matter Ley?" he asked, when the man left the room for a moment. "You'll drive that poor devil into a lunatic asylum."