"I promise," replied Dick. "It is very good of you to have so much interest in me."
"In a way, I don't know that I have very much interest," she said simply; "and I'm afraid I'm acting on impulse. Granddad says that that is my weakness."
"I don't think it is a weakness. I'm not likely to see Count Romanoff again; but I promise, gladly promise, that if I do I'll yield to him in nothing. Is that what you mean?"
"Yes, that's what I mean."
Her humour suddenly changed. She seemed to have no further interest in Wendover Park, or its possessor, whoever it might be, and their conversation became of the most commonplace nature. They chatted about the possibilities of peace, the future of Germany, and the tremendous problems Britain would have to face, but all interest in the question which had engrossed her mind seemed to have left her. Dick was to her only an ordinary acquaintance who had casually crossed the pathway of her life, and who might never do so again. Indeed, as presently they reached the highroad, he thought she became cold and reserved, it might seem, too, that he somewhat bored her.
Presently they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming toward them, and they saw a lady on horseback.
"That's Lady Blanche Huntingford," she said; "do you know her?"
"I did know her slightly," replied Dick, who felt no excitement whatever on seeing her.
"Oh yes, of course you did. She's a great beauty, isn't she?"
"I suppose so." Dick remembered how, in London months before, she had refused to recognise him.