"And they give the usual advice, that the money should be funded. It is the best plan."
"Yes, unless we tell the truth," said Blair, in a low, sad voice. "Sometimes I think that I have been unwise, Austin, in keeping the story of—of my marriage and my darling's death from Lady Ferrers."
Austin Ambrose watched him closely.
"Take my advice, Blair, and while trouble sleeps let it sleep. The past—that past—is dead and done with. The poor girl is dead, and lost to human ken! Why provide the public prints with sensational paragraphs?
"No, I could not do it, and yet, I feel that it is due to my poor dead Margaret. I will think it over. If it should be done, if it is my duty to do it, I will do it," he added, with mournful firmness. "See what the other letters are about, will you, if it isn't too much trouble."
"Not a bit; it amuses me to flatter myself I am of some use to you," was the prompt reply, as the speaker sat down to the table.
Blair strolled back to the drawing-room. Some one was playing, and the vast room was filled with the music. For a moment Violet seemed left alone, and, with the courtesy which never deserted him, Blair walked across to her and took a chair by hers.
"You look tired, Blair," she said.
"Tired! Do I? I am not in the least," he replied.
"All this bores you, does it not?" she asked, glancing round at the company.