"Read," said he, and pointed to the list of deaths. She read.
"Drowned, while bathing in Ravenshoe Bay, Cuthbert Ravenshoe, Esq., of Ravenshoe Hall. In the faith that his forefathers bled and died for.—R.I.P."
"Poor fellow!" she said, quietly. "So he's gone, and brother William, the groom, reigns in his stead. That is a piece of nonsense of the priests about their dying for the faith. I never heard that any of them did that. Also, isn't there something wrong about the grammar?"
"I can't say," said Lord Ascot. "I was at Eton, and hadn't the advantage that you had of learning English grammar. Did you ever play the game of trying to read the Times right across, from one column to another, and see what funny nonsense it makes?"
"No. I should think it was good fun."
"Do it now."
She did. Exactly opposite the announcement of Cuthbert's death was the advertisement we have seen before—Lord Saltire's advertisement for the missing register.
She was attentive and eager enough now. After a time, she said, "Oho!"
Lord Ascot said, "Hey! what do you think of that, Lady Ascot?"
"I am all abroad."