, very much' for her? Well, Mr.
Bender," she smilingly replied, "I think I should like her full value."

"I mean"--he kindly discriminated--"do you want so badly to work her
off?"

"It would be an intense convenience to me--so much so that your telegram
made me at once fondly hope you'd be arriving to conclude."

Such measure of response as he had good-naturedly given her was the
mere frayed edge of a mastering detachment, the copious, impatient range
elsewhere of his true attention. Somehow, however, he still seemed kind
even while, turning his back upon her, he moved off to look at one of
the several, the famous Dedborough pictures--stray specimens, by every
presumption, lost a little in the whole bright bigness. "'Conclude'?" he
echoed as he approached a significantly small canvas. "You ladies want
to get there before the road's so much as laid or the country's safe! Do
you know what this _here_ is?" he at once went on.

"Oh, you can't have _that!_" she cried as with full authority--"and
you must really understand that you can't have everything. You mustn't
expect to ravage Dedborough."

He had his nose meanwhile close to the picture. "I guess it's a bogus
Cuyp--but I know Lord Theign _has_ things. He won't do business?"

"He's not in the least, and can never be, in my tight place," Lady
Sandgate replied; "but he's as proud as he's kind, dear man, and
as solid as he's proud; so that if you came down under a different
impression--!" Well, she could only exhale the folly of his error with
an unction that represented, whatever he might think of it, all her
competence to answer for their host.

He scarce thought of it enough, on any side, however, to be diverted
from prior dispositions. "I came on an understanding that I should find
my friend Lord John, and that Lord Theign would, on his introduction,
kindly let me look round. But being before lunch in Bruton Street I
knocked at your door----"

"For another look," she quickly interposed, "at my Lawrence?"

"For another look at _you_, Lady Sandgate--your great-grandmother wasn't
required. Informed you were here, and struck with the coincidence of my
being myself presently due," he went on, "I despatched you my wire, on
coming away, just to keep up your spirits."

"You _don't_ keep them up, you depress them to anguish," she almost
passionately protested, "when you don't tell me you'll treat!"

He paused in his preoccupation, his perambulation, conscious evident