ation over
George's report of his next step. He returned from the Abbey treading on
air. Even the general had been civil--though it transpired at the last
moment that the young man had been mistaken for his eldest
brother--"but he couldn't go back on me then," chuckled the narrator,
"though I'm bound to say he looked a bit blank. He doesn't yet know
there are eight of us, and Heaven forfend his looking us up in Debrett!"

"Did you get any invitation?"

"Rather. To luncheon to-morrow. Beastly things, luncheons,--but I
couldn't cadge for anything else. What I did was to say I should be
walking past, and ask if I could do anything for anybody in the town?"

"My dear George! You don't propose walking all the way to----"

"Of course I don't; but I propose being prevented by the superior
attractions of Boldero Abbey."

"Oh, I see." She laughed and considered. There were many things she
wanted to ask, but to ask was to suggest, and suggestions were horribly
dangerous.

For instance, about the Purcells? Sir Thomas had made her uneasy by his
praise of Val Purcell's looks, praise which her own heart endorsed--and
George, whose knowledge of the world was extensive, had all along been
slow to believe in his own chances of success. He knew what it meant in
London to be an eighth son. It was only her repeated assurances of the
Boldero's problematic ignorance on this head and her encouragement on
every other, which had brought him up to the scratch at all. Thus hints
which might have spurred on another man, would quite possibly daunt one
alive to his disadvantages and inclined to magnify them. She reverted to
Leonore, and he was willing to talk about Leonore to any extent.

But on thinking it over afterwards, she could not see that he had in
reality very much to say. The little widow had looked as charming as
before, but she had not been so talkative. He thought she was shy before
her family; once only, when out of their sight for a few minutes, she
had brisked up and chattered as at their first meeting; and she
certainly did look pleased when on saying "Good-bye," he had added,
"till morrow"; but otherwise--the fact was there had been no opportunity
for anything else.

The luncheon party however proved more productive. Let us see how this
came about.

"I really can't see what that man is coming for again to-day," observed
Leonore, plaintively, the next morning. "People at luncheon are a
bother, _I_ think."

"You're not o