"And you have got a new picture on the wall. Where did you buy this?"
"At Agnew's, three years ago. It was in the Exhibition. Now I think of it, you have been away for four years, Lawrence."
"I like it. Have you anything to tell me, Agatha?"
"Nothing that will interest you. The house is the same. We have had several dreadful winters, and I have been in constant fear that my shrubs would be killed. Some of them were. My dog Pheenie is dead, and I never intend to have another. The cat that you used to tease is well. My aviary has increased; my horses are the same you knew four years ago; my servants are the same; and my habits, I am thankful to say, have not deteriorated to my knowledge, although I am four years older."
"And your young ladies—the traps you used to set for me when I was four years younger, Agatha—where are they?"
"Married, Lawrence, all of them. What a pity that you could not fix yourself! But it is never too late to mend. At one time I feared you would be attracted by Victoria Pengelley."
Lawrence Colquhoun visibly changed colour, but Agatha was not looking at him.
"That would have been a mistake. I thought so then, and I know it now. She is a cold and bloodless woman, Lawrence. Besides, she is married, thank goodness. We must find you some one else."
"My love days are over," he said, with a harsh and grating voice. "I buried them before I went abroad."
"You will tell me all about that some day, when you feel communicative. Meantime, stay to dinner, and enliven me with all your adventures. You may have some tea if you like, but I do not invite you, because you will want to go away again directly afterwards. Lawrence, what do you intend to do, now you are home again? Are you going to take up the old aimless life, or shall you be serious?"