on my skin. She leaned back in her chair and laughed.

"It is delightful to shoot five thousand pheasants, Robert," she said.

"Now, isn't it?" replied Lord Robert. He had finished the
bread-and-butter.

Then he told her she was a dear, and he was glad something had suggested
to Mr. Campion that he would have other views of living for this week.

"You are a joy, Robert," she said. "But you will have to behave here. None
of the tricks you played at Fotherington in October, my child. Aunt
Katherine would put you in a corner. Miss Travers has been here a week,
and can tell you I am truthful about it."

"Indeed, _yes_," I said.

"But I _must_ know how you got here!" she commanded.

Just then, fortunately, Malcolm, who had been hovering near, came up and
joined us, and would talk too; but if he had been a table or a chair he
could not have mattered less to Lord Robert. He is quite wonderful. He is
not the least rude, only perfectly simple and direct, always getting just
what he wants, with rather an appealing expression in his blue eyes. In a
minute or two he and I were talking together, and Malcolm and Lady
Verningham a few yards off. I felt so happy. He makes one like that, I
don't know for what reason.

"Why did you look so stonily indifferent when I came up?" he asked. "I was
afraid you were annoyed with me for coming."

Then I told him about Lady Katherine, and my stupidly not having mentioned
meeting him at Branches.

"Oh, then I stayed with Christopher after you left, I see," he said. "Had
I met you in London?"

"We won't tell any stories about it. They can think what they please."

"Very well," he laughed. "I can see I shall have to manoeuvre a good
deal to talk quietly to you here, but you will stand with me, won't you,
out shooting to-morrow?"

I told him I did not suppose we should be allowed to go out, except
perhaps for lunch, but he said he refused to believe in such cruelty.

Then he asked me a lot of things about how I had been getting on, and what
I intended to do next. He has the most charming way of making one feel
that one knows him very well, he looks at one every now and then straight
in the eyes, with astonishing frankness. I have never seen any person so
quite without airs. I don't suppose he is ever thinking a bit the effect
he is producing. Nothing has two meanings with him, like with Mr.
Carruthers. If he had said I was to stay and marry him, I am sure he would
have meant it, and I