Morris and his second in command bowed and retired.
“There was a time when I could not bear Morris to be away from my elbow for a moment,” said his lordship, “and now I would rather the fellow were a mile off when you are here, my darling; there is no chatting freely to one’s wife with that booby swallowing every word.”
His lordship looked across the table at the Countess in her white morning-robe, and smiled. “I positively envy those Darby-and-Joan people of the middle class, who are not bothered with a regiment of servants.”
The Countess looked up and said there were Darbys and Joans, she hoped, in halls and castles.
“I know of one couple,” said his lordship, cheerily. “George and Amy are their names, and they will be candidates for the Dunmow Flitch. Lionel Hammerton can hardly have heard of our marriage.”
“Not heard of it?” said the Countess. This was a new feature of the case which had not presented itself to her mind.
“Unless the outward mail made a very quick passage indeed, he has not heard of it; I question whether he can be acquainted with any of the changes that have taken place in our fortunes during the past year.”
“What a surprise it will be for him,” said the Countess.
“Indeed, it will,” said his lordship.
“Was not his departure a very sudden affair?” asked the Countess.