CHAPTER LXIII.
"VARIUM ET MUTABILE."
"You escaped us last night, Mrs Dudley," said one of her acquaintances next morning.
"Yes. I wanted to watch the dancing; but the salon gets so warm in the evening, I could not stand it. We went for a stroll instead."
"Neither of you gives us too much of your company, certainly. I am anxious to hear your husband's opinion of a leader in this morning's Times."
"Here he comes, then," said Mona, as Ralph appeared with a rug over his arm. "Captain Bruce wants to speak to you, dear. You will know where to find me by-and-bye."
She strolled on into the woods, and ensconced herself comfortably on a gnarled old trunk, to wait for her husband. It was not many minutes before he joined her.
"That's right!" he said, throwing himself on the grass at her feet, with a long sigh of content. "How you spoil one, dear, for other people's conversation!"
"I have not had a very alarming competitor this morning," she said, smiling.
"No; but if he had been an archangel, it would have made little difference. Go on, lady mine, talk to me—talk to me 'at lairge.' I want to hear your views about everything. Is not it delightful that we know each other so little?"