"Good morning, Reginald!"
"Good morning, Caroline," he replied. "Are you the only representative of the household?"
She snorted.
"Charlie Grantham went off in his little two-seater at eight o'clock this morning," she announced. "He is motoring up to town. Left apologies with Gossett, I believe—telegram or something in the night. All fiddlesticks, of course!"
"Naturally," the Marquis assented, helping himself from one of the dishes and drawing his chair up to his sister's side. "So exit Charles Grantham, eh?"
"And me," the Duchess declared, returning to her place and pouring out the coffee. "I suppose you can send me to Fakenham for the ten o'clock train?"
The Marquis considered for a moment.
"I am not sure, Caroline," he said, "that your departure is entirely kind."
"Well, I'm jolly certain I don't mean it to be," she answered bitterly. "I ask no questions, and I hate scenes. A week ago I should have scoffed at the idea of David Thain as a prospective suitor for Letitia. Now, my advice to you is, the sooner you can get them married, the better."
"Really!" he murmured. "You've given up the idea, then, of taking the young man to Scotland?"