'I have been telegraphed for by your father, Captain Melfort,' said Mr. Kippilaw, as they shook hands and he was motioned to a chair.
A hale, hearty, unpretentious, business-like man, about forty years of age, Mr. Kenneth Kippilaw was too well-bred and too sensible to begin the matter in hand by any remarks about youthful imprudence, early marriages, or so forth, as he knew the pride and temperament of the young man before him, but laid down his hat, and, after some of that familiar weather talk which is the invariable prelude to any conversation over all the British Isles, he gently approached the object of his mission, which Flora, in the simplicity and terror of her heart, never doubted was a separation of some kind between herself and Lennard, so with a pallid face she bowed and withdrew.
'To what am I indebted for the pleasure of this—a—unexpected interview?' asked Lennard, a little stiffly.
'Instructions just received from your father, Captain Melfort.'
'Then you have come from Craigengowan?'
'Straight.'
'Has he made up his mind to accept my wife as his daughter-in-law?'
'Quite the reverse, I regret to say.'
Lennard's face darkened with indignation, and he gave his moustache an angry twist.
'Are my father and mother determined to ignore the fact that she is a lady by birth?' asked Lennard after a gloomy pause.