“Yas?” said Sir Grantley.
“And I understood Lord Barmouth to say that he would be a most eligible parti for our dearest child.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Sir Grantley, carefully examining the sit of one leg of his trousers.
Lady Barmouth stared at the speaker, and then shut her scent bottle with a loud snap.
“If she has deceived me—tricked me over this,” thought her ladyship, “I will never forgive her.”
“But has Mr Melton professed this to you?” said Sir Grantley, staring at the change which had come over his proposed mother-in-law. For the sweet smile was gone, and her thin lips were drawn tightly over her teeth: not a dimple was to be seen, and a couple of dark marks came beneath her eyes.
“No,” she said, shortly; and there was a great deal of acidity in her tone. “I must say he has not. But I must inquire into this. I trusted implicitly in what my husband, who knew his father intimately, had said. Will you join the croquet party, Sir Grantley?” she continued, forcing back her sweetest smile.
“Yas, oh yas, with pleasure. Charmed,” said Sir Grantley; and they rose and walked towards the croquet lawn.
“Dear Sir Grantley,” said her ladyship, speaking once more with her accustomed sweetness, “this is a private matter between ourselves. You will not let it influence your visit?”
“Not at all.”