"It is only her manner," he answered. "It is very good of you to take us."
"Your wife doesn't like me," Berenice said. "I wonder why. I thought that I had been rather decent to her."
"Blanche is a little odd," Mannering answered. "I am afraid that it is my fault. Here are the Redfords. I wonder if they would join us."
"Three," she murmured, "is certainly an awkward number."
In the end the party became rather a large one, for Lord Redford met some old friends at the club who insisted upon their joining tables. In the interval, whilst they waited for luncheon, Mannering contrived to have a word alone with his wife.
"I am not responsible," he said, "for this enlargement of our party. The Duchess invited herself."
"It does not matter," she declared, listlessly. "What are you doing afterwards?"
"Playing golf, I fancy," he answered. "You heard what Redford said about a foursome."
"And you are returning—when?"
"I must leave here at six to-morrow morning."