"I am listening most attentively, my dear."
"Uncle Peter, you know Mr. Holroyd,—Mr. Mark Holroyd, I mean, not his brother Dick."
"I can't say I know him very well, my dear. He has called several times, to be sure, and dined with us once. We have dined at General Holroyd's twice, I think, when Mark was present. I believe he has made three remarks to me: first, that Cambridge was slow; second, that he liked a Doherty racket best,—I think it was a Doherty he preferred; and third, that the Halls, this month, were—'rather.'"
Phyllis's smile comprehended and confirmed
"But he is very nice, Uncle Peter."
"I have no doubt of it," said Sir Peter. "His father is one of the finest men I have ever known; his mother was a Churchill. Is Mark to read for the Bar?"
"Y-e-es," said Phyllis doubtfully. "I hope so. Oh! Uncle Peter, last night, in the hall——"
"In the hall, eh?" interrupted Sir Peter.
"Yes, dear, in the hall. He—he proposed to me. I told him I had never thought of him in that way at all. And——"
"I should hope not," said Sir Peter. He liked Mark well enough, but there was plenty of time. And he made a mental memorandum to keep his eye on the hall thereafter.