“You must really have your eyes seen to, dear,” the Marchioness remarked in a tone of tender concern. “When you can’t see such an old friend as Mr. Wingrave from a few yards away, they must be very bad indeed. How are you, Captain Kendrick? Come and tell me about the polo this afternoon. Sorry I can’t offer you all chairs. This is an absurd box—it was only meant for two!”
“Come into ours,” Lady Ruth said; “we have chairs for six, I think.”
The Marchioness shook her head.
“I wish I had a millionaire in the family,” she murmured. “All the same, I hate large parties. I am old-fashioned enough to think that two is a delightful number.”
Lady Ruth laid her hand upon Wingrave’s arm.
“A decided hint, Mr. Wingrave,” she declared. “Come and let me introduce you to my sister. Our box is only a few yards off.”
“I AM MISANTHROPOS, AND HATE MANKIND”
Wingrave had just come in from an early gallop. His pale cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were bright. He had been riding hard to escape from disconcerting thoughts. He looked in at the study, and found Aynesworth with a mass of correspondence before him.
“Anything important?” he asked.