A sort of awkwardness filled Lawrence. “I don’t belong among such people,” he muttered, but Mr. Ridgeway either did not hear or did not wish to reply.
They drew up at the broad steps, where carved lions stood on great square blocks of stone.
The friend, eager to get home, drove on as a lady came out of the door and ran down the steps to meet them.
She wore a kilted walking skirt and sweater, and the sun glinted on her fair hair in which the white showed plainly.
“Hello, Sis!” called Mr. Ridgeway, hurrying to greet her. “How are you all, and where is that wife of mine?”
“It is a wonder you wouldn’t give us more warning of your arrival,” said the lady. “That wife of yours has been in London for several days, and she can’t possibly return before tomorrow morning. Your wire did not come in time. I have telephoned her, however, and she will call you later.”
She turned inquiringly to Lawrence, and Mr. Ridgeway introduced him.
“I am glad you came,” said Lady Gray cordially. “I have two boys about your age. You will be great friends, especially as they are both anxious to fly.”
She studied him thoughtfully.
“Whom does he remind you of, Hamilton?”