"I will never submit to see Flora inferior in accomplishments to Ethel, James. French I hold especially by: I have felt the want of it myself. Better, of the two, for her to fail in music than in speaking French. If it were not for Ethel's senseless whim of continuing to take music lessons, there would be no trouble."
"Who's this, I wonder?" cried Mr. Castlemaine.
He alluded to a visitor's ring at the hall bell. Flora came dashing in.
"It's a gentleman in a fur coat," she said. "I watched him come up the avenue."
"A gentleman in a fur coat!" repeated her mother.
"Some one who has walked from Stilborough this cold day, I suppose."
Miles entered. On his small silver waiter lay a card. He presented it to his master and spoke. "The gentleman says he wishes to see you, sir. I have shown him into the drawing-room."
The Master of Greylands was gazing at the card with knitted brow and haughty lips. He did not understand the name on it.
"What farce is this?" he exclaimed, tossing the card on the table in anger. And Mrs. Castlemaine bent to read it with aroused curiosity.
"Anthony Castlemaine."