A few civilities were exchanged, the Earl bearing his part in these with a formality that set off Mr. Taverner’s easier, more open manners to advantage. A silence, which the Earl made no effort to break, soon fell, and while Judith was trying to think of something to say, and wishing that Mrs. Scattergood would come back into the room, her cousin, with what she must feel to be instinctive good taste, reminded the Admiral that they had another engagement in the neighborhood, and should be taking their leave.
The bell was pulled, the footman came up to usher the visitors out, and in a few minutes they were gone.
The Earl, who had been calmly inspecting Judith through his eye-glass, let it fall, and said: “I see you have been taking my advice, Miss Taverner.” He glanced round the room. “Is this house to your liking? It seems to be rather above the general run of furnished houses.”
“Have you not been inside it before?” she demanded.
“Not to my knowledge,” he said, raising his brows. “Why should I?”
“I thought it was you who—” she broke off, cross with herself at having said so much.
“Oh no,” he replied. “Blackader chose it.” He turned his head to look at Peregrine, and an expression of pain crossed his features. “My good boy, are you emulating the style of Mr. Fitzjohn and his associates, or is that monstrous erection round your neck due merely to the clumsiness of your valet?”
“I was in a hurry,” said Peregrine defensively, and reddening in spite of himself.
“Then do not be in a hurry again. Cravats are not to be tied in an instant. I hear you bought Scrutton’s bay mare at Tattersall’s.”
“Yes,” said Peregrine.