"Because I have been dining earlier than usual at the house of a cousin of mine in the suburbs, where I have been officiating as god-father to his first-born son."
"A very patriarchal proceeding. Who is this cousin—do I not know him?"
"I think not; he is a cousin on my mother's side, and has a cure of souls at Clapham."
"Well, Hugh, and how are you? You look better and stronger."
"I am! I have turned the corner, and am beginning to pull mechanically against the collar once more."
Lady Gethin looked earnestly at him. He seemed taller than ever—gaunt and bony. His dark face was very colorless, his eyes sunken; yet his attitude and air had less of lassitude than when they had parted last.
"You have been across the Channel?"
"Yes, I ran over to Paris for a little change, just before Christmas. Paris draws me like a magnet."
"A magnetism you ought to resist. How is the beautiful city?"
"Beautiful as ever; but there is mischief in the air. However, I am no prophet. I wandered about the old scenes like a troubled ghost, and I saw Lambert."