great thoroughfare
without--he added to himself:--

"Good fellow, Shotover. Has his faults, but upon my word, when you come
to think of it, so have all of us. Very good-hearted, sensible fellow
at bottom, Shotover. Always responds when you talk rationally to him.
No nonsense about him."--His lordship sighed as he climbed the marble
stair. "Great comfort to me at times Shotover. Shows very proper
feeling on the present occasion, but naturally feels a diffidence about
expressing it."

Thus, in the end, it happened that the family council consisted only of
the lady of the house, her sister Lady Alicia Winterbotham, Mr. Ludovic
Quayle, and the parent whom all three of them were, each in their
several ways, so perfectly willing to instruct in his duty towards his
children.

Ludovic, perhaps, displayed less alacrity than usual in offering good
advice to his father. His policy was rather that of masterly
inactivity. Indeed, as the discussion waxed hot--his sisters' voices
rising slightly in tone, while Lord Fallowfeild's replies disclosed a
vein of dogged obstinacy--he withdrew from the field of battle and
moved slowly round the room staring abstractedly at the pictures. There
was a seductive, female head by Greuze, a couple of reposeful
landscapes by Morland, a little Constable--waterways, trees, and
distant woodland, swept by wind and weather. But upon these the young
man bestowed scant attention. That which fascinated his gaze was a
series of half-length portraits in oval frames, representing his
parents, himself, his sisters, and brothers. These portraits were the
work of a lady whose artistic gifts, and whose prices, were alike
modest. They were in coloured chalks, and had, after adorning her own
sitting-room for a number of years, been given, as a wedding present,
by Lady Fallowfeild to her eldest daughter. Mr. Quayle reviewed them
leisurely now, looking over his shoulder now and again to note how the
tide of battle rolled, and raising his eyebrows in mute protest when
the voices of the two ladies became more than usually elevated.

"You see, papa, you have not been here"--Lady Louisa was saying.

"No, I haven't," interrupted Lord Fallowfeild. "And very much I regret
that I haven't. Should have done my best to put a stop to this
engagement at the outset--before there was any engagement at all, in
fact."

"And so you cannot possibly know how the whole thing--any breaking off
I mean--would be regarded."

"Can't