They turned out of the Park and not a word passed between them again until Letitia descended from her horse in Grosvenor Square.
"You were a dear to think of this, Charles," she said, standing on the steps and smiling at him. "I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a long time."
"You wouldn't care about a theatre this evening?" he proposed.
"Come in at tea time and see how I am feeling," she suggested. "I have dad rather on my hands. He has been wandering about like a lost sheep, the last few afternoons. I can't think what is wrong."
She strolled across the hall and looked in at the study. The Marquis was seated in an easy-chair, reading a volume of Memoirs. She crossed the room towards him.
"Father," she exclaimed, "you ought to have been out a beautiful morning like this."
The Marquis laid down his book. He was certainly looking a little tired. Letitia came up to his side and patted his hand.
"How's the gout?" she asked.
"Better," he replied, examining the offending finger.
"You're just lazy, I believe," Letitia observed reprovingly. "The sooner we get down to Mandeleys the better."