"Esther's guardian, if I remember correctly, fell in love with her; and she let him see"—dreamily but spitefully—"that she preferred another."
"Ah, Sir Guy, think of that. See what lies before you," says Lilian, coloring warmly, but braving it out to the end.
"I am sure you are going to ask me what I should like, Guy," breaks in Cyril, languidly, who is not so engrossed by his game but that he can heed Lilian's embarrassment. "Those cigars of yours are excellent. I shall feel obliged by your bringing me (as a free gift, mind) half a dozen boxes. If you do, it will be a saving, as for the future I shall leave yours in peace."
"Thank you: I shall make a note of it," says Guy, laughing.
"Do you go early, Sir Guy?" asks Lilian, presently. She is leaning back in a huge lounging-chair of blue satin that almost conceals from view her tiny figure. In her hands is an ebony fan, and as she asks the question she closes and uncloses it indolently.
"Very early. I must start at seven to catch the train, if I wish to get my business done and be back by five."
"What an unearthly hour for a poor old gentleman like you to rise! You won't recover it in a hurry. You will breakfast before you go?"
"Yes."
"What a lunch you will eat when you get to town! But don't overdo it, Guardy. You will be starving, no doubt; but remember the horrors of gout. And who will give you your breakfast at seven?"
She raises her large soft eyes to his and, unfurling her fan, lays it thoughtfully against her pretty lips. Sir Guy is about to make an eager reply, when Miss Beauchamp interposes.