"It will not be, at any rate, before the autumn, then?" I persisted.
"No!"
I drew a little breath of relief. I was reckless whether she heard it or not. Suddenly she paused.
"Who is that?" she asked.
I recognized him at once—a small grey figure, standing on the top of a sandhill a little way off, and regarding us steadily. It was the Duke.
"Your father!" I said.
We quickened our pace. If Lady Angela was in any way discomposed she showed no signs of it. She waved her hand, and the Duke solemnly removed his hat.
"I am so glad that he has come down before the others," she said. "I am longing to have a talk with him. And I don't believe he knows anything about Blenavon. No, he's far too cheerful."
She went straight up to him and passed her arm through his. He greeted me stiffly, but not unkindly.
"I am so glad that you have come," she said. "If I had not heard I should have telegraphed to you. I've seen it in all the papers."