‘No,’ he answered, suddenly grave; ‘that was not what I read. Pshaw,’ he added in a lighter tone, ‘chiromancy is all nonsense. Why should a man, not too much given to belief in the things that are good for him to believe, pin his faith on a fanciful science of that kind? I have left off looking at palms ever since that day at Fontainebleau. And now tell me about your sister. I am longing to see her. To think that I should have stumbled on just the one particular afternoon on which she was to be so long away! I pictured her sitting by yonder bamboo table, like Penelope waiting for her Odysseus. Do you know that I have come straight through from Bergen without stopping?’ ‘And you have not been home to your Abbey?’ ‘My Abbey will keep. By-the-by, how is the place looking—the gardens all in their beauty, I suppose?’ ‘I have never seen it.’ ‘Never! Why, I thought Lina would be driving over once or twice a week to survey her future domain. I take it positively unkind that you have never seen my Abbey: my cloisters where never monk walked; my refectory, where never monk ate; my chapel, where no priest ever said mass. I should have thought curiosity would have impelled you to go and look at Goring Abbey. It is such a charming anomaly. But it pleased my poor father to build it, so I must not complain.’ ‘I think you ought to be very proud of it when you consider how hard your father must have worked for the money it cost,’ said Daphne bluntly. ‘Yes, John Giles had to put a long career of honest labour behind him, before he became Giles-Goring and owner of Goring Abbey. He was a good old man. I feel sorry sometimes that I am not more like him. ‘Lina says you are like your mother.’ ‘Yes, I believe I resemble her side of the house. It was by no means the more meritorious side, for the Heronvilles were always loose fish, while my father was one of the best men who ever wore shoe-leather. Do you think Lina will be pleasantly surprised by my return?’ ‘Do I think it?’ echoed Daphne. ‘Why, she has been longing for your coming—counting every hour. I know that, though she has not said as much. I can read her thoughts.’ ‘Clever little puss. Daphne, do you know I am quite delighted to find that my grocer’s daughter of Fontainebleau Forest is to be my new sister.’ ‘You are very good,’ returned Daphne rather stiffly. ‘It is eight o’clock, so I think, if you’ll excuse me, I had better go and dress for dinner.’ ‘Wait till your people come home. I’ve ever so many questions to ask.’ ‘There is the carriage! You can ask them of Lina herself.’