"Oh, how are you, Mr. Moore? You remember me?"
"Lord Brooking; Sir Percival's friend," said Moore coldly. "I 've not forgotten you."
And he paid no attention to his lordship's outstretched hand.
Brooking seemed a trifle disconcerted at the coolness of his reception, but, recovering himself, he continued winningly:
"You wrong me, sir. My intimacy with the gentleman you named has declined to a mere acquaintance."
"You are to be congratulated, Lord Brooking," replied Moore more cordially. "Won't you sit down?"
Then, as the young nobleman was relieved of his cloak and hat by Buster, the poet went on:
"I believed your lordship to be abroad."
"It is my custom to pass six months yearly upon the Continent," answered Brooking, settling back at his ease in the old arm-chair to which his host had waved him. "To this, doubtless, your impression is due. As it is, I only returned from there two days ago, so you see, Mr. Moore, you are one of the first of my friends to receive a call from me."
"I am honored," replied Moore, politely, sitting down on the other side of the fireplace.