‘Friends of yours, Jack?’ said Ilfracombe in his hospitable way. ‘Ask them to come here and lunch with us, old boy, if they’re not better engaged.’ ‘Shall I? Have I _your_ permission, Lady Ilfracombe?’ asked Mr Portland, looking at Nora. ‘Need you ask the question, Mr Portland,’ she replied without glancing his way. ‘If you have my husband’s leave, you have mine.’ ‘Thanks,’ said Mr Portland as he descended from the coach. ‘They may be with another party; but I’ll just ask. I’m sure you’ll like them. Lady Bowmant is just your style.’ In a few minutes he returned with his friends, and introduced them to Lord and Lady Ilfracombe. Sir Archibald was a stout, florid, middle-aged man, with a jolly, good-tempered countenance, and weak, watery, blue eyes. His wife, to whom he had not been married a twelvemonth, was many years his junior, perhaps not more than five-and-twenty, and was as good a specimen of a fast young woman who just contrives not to step over the rubicon as could be found anywhere. She had been a nobody, and her head was completely turned by having become the wife of a baronet. She was decidedly pretty, with a countrified style of beauty, and she was fashionably but not well dressed. Her manner was effusive, and her voice loud, but she was lively, sparkling and amusing. Lady Ilfracombe, though indisposed to accord her a hearty welcome just because she had been introduced by Jack Portland, could not help thawing under her lively manner, and before long they were all on the most excellent terms. ‘How good of you to ask us to luncheon, Lady Ilfracombe!’ exclaimed the new comer. ‘I am sure I shall never forget it. I do so admire anything like cordiality. You meet with so little of it in this country. We Englishwomen are horribly stiff as a rule, are we not? Sir Archibald and I were admiring your drag so much. We were on the course when you drove up, just making our way to the Grand Stand. It is quite a wonder we are here. We never meant to come, but I have never seen the Derby run, and Sir Archibald thought I should not go back to Wales without doing so. We drove down but put up at the hotel. Are we not ignoramuses? I was just despairing of pushing our way through this crowd when Jack spied us out, and landed us, through your goodness, in this haven of peace.’ ‘You have known Mr Portland a long time then, I suppose?’ remarked Nora. ‘Why? Because I called him “Jack?” Oh, everyone calls him “Jack,” don’t they? He’s a regular lady’s man, is Mr Portland, and a great favourite with my husband. He is coming to stay with us in Usk next month.’ ‘So he told us just now.’ ‘Yes, I am quite looking forward to it. He is such a delightful companion in the country. Do you like the country, Lady Ilfracombe? Are you fond of horses?’ ‘I am very fond of horses,’ replied Nora, smiling; ‘but if your question means, Do you ride well? I must tell you that I never mounted a horse till after my marriage, and so I am still a learner.’