Luncheon was then announced: the sliding doors which separated the dining-room from Lord Garrow's library were rolled back. They all walked in—Pensée and Sara leading the way.
“A sweet creature!” whispered his lordship behind their backs, indicating Lady Fitz Rewes. He sighed as he spoke. He could never feel that there was not something deplorable in Sara's physical brilliancy. Her upper-lip that day had a certain curl which he had learnt to regard as a danger-signal. What would she do next? As he sat down at the table and observed the sweep of her eyelashes toward Reckage, a presentiment of trouble clouded the new hopes he had formed for her career.
“Who are your strong men now?” asked Harding suddenly, after a moment's contemplation of Reckage, who sat opposite.
“Our strong men?” faltered Lord Garrow.
“Aren't most of 'em place-hunters and self-seekers?”
“You must meet Robert Orange,” said Pensée; “Mr. Disraeli believes in Robert Orange.”
“I never heard of him,” observed Sir Piers. “Who is he?”
“You may well ask,” said Lord Garrow. “He claims to be a de Hausée—on his father's side. Reckage can tell you about him. Many have a high opinion of the fellow, and say that if he will stick to one branch of politics, he may become useful. Personally, I don't call him a man of the world.”
“Not of our world, perhaps, papa. But there are so many other worlds!”
“Sara likes him. A lot of women like him,” said his lordship. He was annoyed at her interruption and took his revenge by a feminine thrust. “The hero,” said he, “married some mysterious person this very morning. We may not hear so much about him in the future!”