"Or is it because Miss Graham is such a special friend of his that he can take her away from all the rest of us put together?" murmured the captain.
"Oh, there is nothing on there," said Lord Chichester. "My wife—and she ought to know, don't you know—stoutly denies it."
"I didn't say there was anything between them. If there was, that would be sufficient reason for all of us hating him—barring you, Charlie, who are out of the hunt now."
"You don't hate Blair?" said Chichester, thoughtfully.
"Well, there is nothing between him and her; now, at any rate; and if there were we shouldn't hate him."
"Fancy hating old Blair!" exclaimed the marquis.
There was a general smile of assent at the exclamation.
"Best fellow alive!" said Chichester. "Poor old chappie; he's dreadfully down on his luck just at present."
"Oh, he'll come up to time all right!" broke in the dragoon. "You never find Blair knocked under for long. He'll come up smiling presently. Always falls on his legs, thank goodness. By the way," he said, more thoughtfully than was his wont, "it's rather rum how he and that fellow Ambrose get on so well together."
"Oh, Blair could get on with any one—Old Nick himself!" exclaimed Chichester, and amidst the general laugh the group melted and passed on with the crowd.