"I am at your service, Miss Grace," said he, lightly.
"How are you going down to Richmond on Sunday?" she asked at once.
"By train, I suppose."
There was a moment's silence—perhaps she was waiting for him to ask a similar question.
"Lord Denysfort is going to drive down," said the voice in the inner room.
"Lord Denysfort!" he said, contemptuously. "What she is the attraction now? I don't like that kind of thing; it gets the
theatre a bad name. If I were Lehmann, I wouldn't have a single stranger allowed in the wings."
"Not unless they were your own friends," said the unseen young lady, complacently. "Now I know you're scowling. But I believe you are quite wrong. Lord Denysfort is simply a business acquaintance of Mr. Lehmann's—there are money matters between them, and that kind of thing; and when he was asked to be present at the dinner, it was quite natural that he should offer to drive some of us down. You have no particular detestation of lords, have you? What has become of the tall, handsome young man you brought to us at Henley—the lazy man—and didn't he come to the theatre one night?"
"Lord Rockminster?—he is in Scotland still, I believe."
"Somebody ought to put fireworks in his coat-tail pockets; but he's awfully good-looking—he's just frightfully handsome. He quite fluttered me."