Mr Cookson laughed.
"We will be proud to see you at any time," he said; "but I am afraid we have not enough interest with the clerk of the weather to get up a frost like that again. I never remember to have seen the like of it."
He turned to Lady Munro with a vague idea that he ought to be making himself agreeable to her.
"My girls were wishing they could carry the leaves and things home," he said; "it seemed such a waste like."
Mona inwardly blessed her aunt for the gracious smile with which she listened to these words; but, whatever Lady Munro's feelings might be, it was extremely difficult for her to be ungracious to any one.
The Fates, after all, were kind. Mr Cookson left the box before Sir Douglas returned.
"My dear Mona!" was all Lady Munro could say the first moment they were left alone.
"Poor dear Aunt Maud!" Mona said caressingly; "it is a shame that she should be subjected to such a thing. But never mind, dear; he lives hundreds of miles away from here, and you are never likely to see him again."
Lady Munro groaned. Fortunately, she had heard nothing of the invitation, and in another minute she was once more absorbed in the interest of the play.
The party drove back to Gower Street in silence. Sir Douglas alighted at once, and held out his hand to help Mona.