She was surprised to see him, for he had been out of town for some weeks. As she shook hands, she said, “How delightful this is! I did not know you were in London! How do you do?”
“Only reached town today, ma’am. Heard of your troubles from Charlbury. Never more shocked in my life! Came at once to inquire!”
“That is like you! Thank you, she is almost well now, although dreadfully thin, poor little dear, and languid still! You are the very person I wished to see! Are you driving yourself? Must you instantly see my cousin, or will you take me for a turn round the Park?”
He was driving his phaeton, and there could be only one answer to her request. With the greatest gallantry he bowed her out of the house, warning her, however, that she would encounter none but Cits in the Park at this season.
“And what, sir, would you have me say to Mr. Rivenhall?” asked Dassett, fixing his disapproving eye on a point above Mr. Wychbold’s left shoulder.
“Oh, tell him I called and was sorry to find him from home!” replied Mr. Wychbold, with an insouciance the butler found offensive.
“Have you been out in your own phaeton, ma’am?” Mr. Wychbold asked, as he handed Sophy into the carriage. “How do your bays go on?”
“Very well. I have not been driving them today, however, but have been to Merton with Charlbury.”
“Oh — ah!” he said, with a slight cough and a sidelong look.
“Yes, making myself the talk of the town!” Sophy said merrily. “Who told you so? The archenemy?”