'Mr. Chevenix wishes to see you on some important business to-morrow, Jerry,' said Lady Wilmot, when the dessert was over and the servants had withdrawn.
'All right, mater; I'll ride over to-morrow probably—nay, certainly. Try the burgundy, Goring; there are Romanée, Conti, and Chablis before you.'
'The latter—thanks, Jerry.'
'Miss Chevenix is at home just now,' observed Lady Wilmot, with a furtive glance at her son.
'I know; she returned, or was to return, yesterday.'
'You seem well aware of her movements; but of what interest are they to you, Jerry?'
'Every pretty girl's movements are of interest to me,' replied Jerry, laughing.
There was a mischievous pout on Cousin Emily's pouting lips, that were like two rose-buds; but his mother's curled slightly with disdain.
'She is handsome, certainly,' said Jerry, emphatically; 'appeal to Goring that she is.'
'And rather good style, considering her origin,' added Lady Wilmot.