"There's no one in hearing, sir."
The Dictator turned upon his son. "What do you mean?"
"All courtesy, sir."
"You abandon that woman's service?"
"Otherwise, my dear father, you would have been shot in her very presence."
"You take service with me?"
"His Grace of Ulster loses the old acumen. Was there ever a time, sir, when a son of our honourable house failed to go over to the winning side? Come. I must get you out of this garden. Your life is not safe. And keep your eyes about you when we enter the Palace."
"Jim, are you playing fair with your father?"
"Time will show that."
They gained the lower terrace, and Ulster, supporting himself upon the arm of his son, wondered why Sydney must turn to look back to the lake, the rose garden, and the bower where Margaret sat.