"Papa, you will not care to spend the evening here; it will be dull for you, and I cannot go out. Should you not like to go to your club?"
"Yes; but what of you, my dear?"
"I am tired, and shall be very glad to take a book and go to my own room with it."
"My dear Doris," said the earl, who had slightly dreaded the long, lonely evening, "you are a most sensible girl. If you treat Earle as you treat me, he ought to be the happiest husband in the world."
"I hope he will be, papa," was the quiet reply. And she wondered what her father, the Earl of Linleigh, would say if he knew from whom she had taken her early lessons in the art of managing men.
"If you want a man to be really fond of you, Doris," he used to say, "to feel at home with you, and never to be bored in your society, let him have his own way—offer him his liberty, even when he does not seem inclined to take it; suggest to him a game at billiards, a few hours at his club—you have no idea how he will appreciate you for it."
She had found the charm work perfectly in the case of Lord Charles, and now her father, too, seemed to admire the plan. What would he say if he knew who had instructed her?
She went to her room. Lady Doris never traveled without a pleasant little selection of light French literature—"it prevented her from forgetting the language," she said.
The earl, inwardly hoping his wife would be as sensible as his daughter, went off to spend a quiet evening at his club.
The day following was one of genuine delight to Lady Doris. The first visit the earl paid was to the establishment of Messrs. Storr & Mortimer; there she was to select for herself what jewels she would. She had glanced once wistfully at the earl.