Jack rattled his pencil-case between his teeth.
"Thirty pounds exactly, Lady Ardingly," he said.
They rose and walked across the lawn towards the house, Jack sauntering a little behind, his hands in his pockets, smiling to himself. Mildred dropped behind with him, the other two walking on a few paces ahead.
"The most odious hour in the twenty-four!" said Lady Ardingly, looking ghastly in the dawn.
"Very trying," said Andrew.
"But we have spent the night very well," said the other, as they parted at the foot of the stairs. "A charming Sunday, Mr. Brereton. You and Mildred are great benefactors!"
And she hurried upstairs, conscious that she was looking awful, and, in that hour of low vitality which comes with the dawn, not wishing to appear thus before anybody, however insignificant.