'Well, don't scold me, papa—if I try—I must'—her voice escaped her, and she began again, firmly—'I must have something to fill up.'
'Fill up what?'
She looked round to make sure that the servants had finished clearing away the tea, and that they were alone.
'The days—and the hours,' she said, softly. 'One must have something to think of.'
Lord Findon frowned.
'He will fall in love with you, Eugénie—and then where shall we be?'
He heard a laugh—very sweet—very feminine, yet, to his ear, very forlorn.
'I'll take care of that. We'll find him a wife, too, papa—when he "arrives." We shall be in practice—you and I.'
Lord Findon sprang up.
'Here he is!' he said, with very evident agitation.