"It sounds odd," said the latter. "Fancy the doomed and fated Ravenspurs going on a picnic! And fancy the suggestion, too, coming from grandfather!"
Vera looked anxious.
"You don't imagine," she said, "that his mind——"
"Oh, his mind is all right. You can see that from his face. But I expect that the strain is telling on him, and that he wants to get out of himself for a time. Personally, I regard the idea as charming."
The preparations were made, no great matter in so large and well-regulated an establishment as Ravenspur Castle. If the servants were astonished, they said nothing. The stolid coachman sat solemnly on the box of the wagonette; the demure footman touched his hat as he put up the step with the air of a man who is accustomed to do this sort of thing every day.
Geoffrey stood under the big portico and waved his hand.
"You should drive with us," Marion cried.
"And you won't be long?" Vera asked.
"Oh, I am duly impressed with the importance of the occasion," Geoffrey laughed. "My horse will get there almost as soon as you arrive. Call the spaniel."
Tut, the pet spaniel, was called, but no response was made, and finally the party drove off without him. Geoffrey watched the wagonette with a strange sense of unreality upon him. He felt that he could have scoffed at a situation like this in the pages of a novel. And yet it is the truth that is always so improbable.