“Lady Luttrell!” said the Major, starting up. “Here? Ha, is this some dastardly plot?”
Sir Richard turned, a look of surprise in his face. “Show the lady in!” he said.
“Well, I always knew country life would never do for me,” remarked Cedric, “but damme, I never realized one half of it till now! Not nine o’clock, and the better part of the county paying morning calls! Horrible, Ricky, horrible!”
Sir Richard had turned away from the window, and was watching the door, his brows slightly raised. The waiter ushered in a good-looking woman of between forty and fifty years of age, with brown hair flecked with grey, shrewd, humorous eyes, and a somewhat masterful mouth and chin. Sir Richard moved to meet her, but before he could say anything the Major had burst into speech.
“So, ma’am! So!” he shot out. “You wish to see Sir Richard Wyndham, do you? You did not expect to meet me here, I dare say!”
“No,” agreed the lady composedly. “I did not. However, since we shall be obliged, I understand, to meet one another in future with an appearance at least of complaisance, we may as well make a start. How do you do, Major?”
“Upon my word, you are mighty cool, ma’am! Pray, are you aware that your son has eloped with my daughter?”
“Yes,” replied Lady Luttrell. “My son left a letter behind to inform me of this circumstance.”
Her calm seemed to throw the Major out of his stride. He said rather lamely: “But what are we to do?”
She smiled. “We have nothing to do but to accept the event with as good a grace as we can. You do not like the match, and nor do I, but to pursue the young couple, or to show the world our disapproval, will only serve to make us both ridiculous.” She looked him over with a rather mocking light in her eyes, but he seemed so much taken aback, that she relented, and held out her hand to him. “Come, Major! We may as well bury the hatchet. I cannot be estranged from my only son; you, I am persuaded, would be equally loth to disown your daughter.”