"He is not happy out of club-land, I suppose," said Lady Frances, sitting down beside her son. "I must say I am very sorry he lost the election. He deserved better at the hands of the Denham men, but it was the radical mining people that turned him out."
"Do you leave soon?" asked Glynn.
"On Thursday; I suppose you will not come back quite so soon? You are fond of Paris, I think?"
"My movements are rather uncertain; I may go on to Berlin."
"I wish you would come as far as Genoa with me," cried Verner, "I am just appointed to the 'Africa,' on the Mediterranean station. I hate traveling alone. Poor Dennison, who commanded her, died of a few days' fever off the coast of Calabria,—caught it shooting in some marshes, and——"
The entrance of Deering interrupted him.
"How do, Glynn? You still here, Verner?" He took no notice of Lady Frances or his son.
"Yes, I want to see the review to-morrow, and will start by the Lyons train at night," said Verner, in an apologetic tone.
Deering threw himself into an easy-chair, exclaiming, "It is getting insufferably hot here. Could you manage to start on Tuesday night instead of Thursday morning?"—to his wife.
"I should think so."