Mr. Davenport was to join them after lunch, and go on shooting with Percy, and they had nearly finished when he entered. He was a stout, hearty-looking man of fifty, and inexpressible satisfaction was his normal expression.
"Well, you people look pretty comfortable," he said. "What sport, Reggie?"
"Oh! rabbits, lots of them, a few hares, ditto pheasants, and fifteen woodcock," said Reggie, with his month full of bread and cheese, whose naturally healthy appetite had not been spoiled by love.
"Reggie's going to take Gertrude a drive after lunch," said Mrs. Davenport; "and I shall walk home; I want a walk."
Gertrude and Reggie looked at each other, but acquiesced.
"Reggie, dear, give Gertrude my furs. She will be cold driving, and I sha'n't want them walking," said Mrs. Davenport, as the two started to go.
Reggie took them, and with those little attentions that a woman loves so much when they are offered by somebody, wrapped them closely round her.
"Well, I'm sure I ought to be warm enough," she said, as they left the door.
"Reggie will take off his coat if you're not, I daresay," murmured Mrs. Davenport, as she watched them start. "Dear boy, how happy he is."
"He hasn't got much to complain of," said his father. "How old it makes one feel."