quoted Billy, who had an excellent memory.
Myra rose, hastily. “I must go in,” she said. “But play as long as you like.”
Billy walked beside her towards the shrubbery. “May I come in and see you, presently, dear Queen? There is something I want to say.”
“Come when you will, Billy-boy,” said Lady Ingleby, with a smile. “You will find me in my sitting-room.”
And Billy looked furtively at Ronald, hoping he had not seen. Words and smile undoubtedly partook of the maternal!
It was a very grave-faced young man who, half an hour later, appeared in Lady Ingleby’s sitting-room, closing the door carefully behind him. Lady Ingleby knew at once that he had come on some matter which, at all events to himself, appeared of paramount importance. Billy’s days of youthful escapades were over. This must be something more serious.
She rose from her davenport and came to the sofa. “Sit down, Billy,” she said, indicating an armchair opposite—Lord Ingleby’s chair, and little Peter’s. Both had now left it empty. Billy filled it readily, unconscious of its associations.
“Rippin’ flowers,” remarked Billy, looking round the room.
“Yes,” said Lady Ingleby. She devoutly hoped Billy was not going to propose.