"A country living? Where?"
"One of the Duke of Crowborough's Shropshire livings," said the General, after what seemed to be an instant's hesitation. Mademoiselle Le Breton had moved away, and was replacing the photographs in the drawer of a distant bureau.
"Ah, one of Crowborough's? Well, I hope it is a living with something to live on."
"Not so bad, as times go," said the General, smiling. "It has been a great relief to our minds. There were some chest symptoms; his mother was alarmed. The Duchess has been most kind; she took quite a fancy to the lad, and--"
"What a woman wants she gets. Well, I hope he'll like it. Good-night, General. Shall I look you up at the War Office some morning?"
"By all means."
The old soldier, whose tanned face had shown a singular softness while he was speaking of his son, took his leave.
Sir Wilfrid was left meditating, his eyes absently fixed on the graceful figure of Mademoiselle Le Breton, who shut the drawer she had been arranging and returned to him.
"Do you know the General's sons?" he asked her, while she was preparing him a second cup of tea.
"I have seen the younger."