"Hallo, Gore!" he said carelessly. "I thought you were killing salmon at the home of the ancestors. How d'you do, Mr. Estcoit?"
He nodded to the young American; then moved away again to where Clodagh sat.
"What a dreadful afternoon!" he said. "Why haven't you changed into something lighter?" He glanced at her riding habit.
She blushed and looked up hastily.
"We have just been saying what a glorious afternoon! But I don't think you have met Mrs. and Miss Estcoit. Let me introduce you! Lord Deerehurst, Mrs. Estcoit!"
Both ladies bowed, and Mrs. Estcoit broke at once into an unaffected flow of talk, to which Deerehurst listened with polite interest, smiling now and then, and occasionally raising his eyeglass.
At last, as she paused, he looked at her in faint curiosity.
"And you really find an interest in England?" he asked.
She gave a bright, cordial laugh—a laugh that seemed to testify to the perennial youth of her countrywomen.
"This is the twenty-first visit I've paid to England," she said, "and I love it more every time. When my son turns me out of my home in Boston, I shall buy one of your country places—as a dower-house!" Again she laughed, casting an affectionate glance towards Nance and Estcoit! "But, Clodagh, we really must fly. Good-bye, Lord Deerehurst! Delighted to have met you!" She rose gracefully, shook hands with the old peer, and turning to Clodagh, took both her hands and kissed her warmly.