A poor hump-backed man, with a strong face and head, and a soured, suspicious, cynical expression. He would evidently have been very tall, but for his deformity, a hump stands out on his back, almost like Mr. Punch. He can’t be much over forty, but he looks far older, his hair is quite gray.
Not a line, or an expression in him reminded me of Lord Robert, I am glad to say.
Lady Merrenden introduced us, and Lord Merrenden came in then, too, and we all went down to luncheon.
It was a rather small table, so we were all near one another, and could talk.
The dining-room is immense.
“I always have this little table when we are such a small party,” Lady Merrenden said. “It is more cosy, and one does not feel so isolated.”
How I agreed with her.
The Duke looked at me searchingly often, with his shrewd little eyes. One could not say if it was with approval, or disapproval.
Lord Merrenden talked about politics, and the questions of the day, he has a courteous manner, and all their voices are soft and refined. And nothing could have been more smooth and silent than the service.
The luncheon was very simple, and very good, but not half the numbers of rich dishes like at Branches, or Lady Ver’s.