"Mother, why don't you come?"
Lady Verner half turned from him.
"Lionel, you must not forget our compact. If I visit your wife now and then, just to keep gossiping tongues quiet, from saying that Lady Verner and her son are estranged, I cannot do it often."
"Were there any cause why you should show this disfavour to Sibylla—"
"Our compact, our compact, my son! You are not to urge me upon this point, do you remember? I rarely break my resolutions, Lionel."
"Or your prejudices either, mother."
"Very true," was the equable answer of Lady Verner.
Little more was said. Lionel found the time drawing on, and left. Lady Verner's carriage was already at the door, waiting to convey Decima and Lucy Tempest to the dinner at Verner's Pride. As he was about to mount his horse, Peckaby passed by, rolling a wheel before him. He touched his cap.
"Well," said Lionel, "has the white donkey arrived yet?"
A contraction of anger, not, however, unmixed with mirth, crossed the man's face.