The Countess raised her delicate head and looked at the silver-gilt clock.
"Where has Marius gone, my dear; isn't he late?"
Susannah was well used to reminding her aunt of things that lady knew perfectly well.
"He has gone to attend my Lord Willouby," she smiled. "And I think he will be back very soon."
"I recall it," said the Countess Agatha. "Do you think he will be ordered abroad again?"
"Not to Madrid, I hope; he seems wearied of it to the death, doth he not?"
"Yes," sighed his mother. "And I want to keep him at home; he spoke of an appointment in Paris, in the suite of my Lord Northcote; I trust he will not go."
Miss Chressham rose.
"The mantua-maker is coming at six, shall we not go upstairs?"
"Oh, la!" cried my lady, shaking her laces into place; "it should be very modish, should it not, that watered tabby—which minds me that all the best heads have ribbon in the lapels—I wish to order some of a precise red."