"You will have to get over that feeling," observed Mr. Carr, disregarding the hint, and taking out his probing-knife. "And the sooner it is got over the better for all parties. You cannot become an exile from your own place. Are they at Calne now?"
"Yes. They were in Paris just before we left it, and there was an encounter at Versailles. I wished myself dead; I declare I did. A day or two after we came to England they crossed over, and went straight down to Calne. There—don't say any more."
"The longer you keep away from Hartledon the greater effort it will cost you to go down to it; and—"
"I won't go to Hartledon," he interrupted, in a sort of fury; "neither perhaps would you, in my place."
"Sir," cried Mr. Carr's clerk, bustling in and addressing his master, "you are waited for at the chambers of Serjeant Gale. The consultation is on."
Lord Hartledon rose.
"I will not detain you, Carr; business must be attended to. Will you come and dine with us this evening? Only me and my wife. Here's where we are staying—Piccadilly. My own house is let, you know."
"I have no engagement, and will come with pleasure," said Mr. Carr, taking the card. "What hour?"
"Ah, that's just what I can't tell you. Lady Hartledon orders dinner to suit her engagements—any time between six and nine! I never know. We are a fashionable couple, don't you see?"
"Stay, though, Hartledon; I forget. I have a business appointment for half-past eight. Perhaps I can put it off."