‘Did you see much of the Websters?’ she asked, alluding to some distant cousins with whom she had been on terms of intimacy in former days—days which now seemed very far back. ‘Websters—no! When I go to town, I don’t go to do the proper with them. I have other friends and other places to go to.’ ‘Lucy told me in a letter that Dick had met you somewhere.’ ‘And I’ve met Dick,’ retorted Otho, with an uncomplimentary sneer; ‘and a precious prig he is.’ ‘Indeed, Otho, he is not. He is a very nice lad, and very free from priggishness. That’s his great charm.’ ‘He’s a young milksop.’ ‘He is neither vulgar nor dissipated, if that is what you mean.’ ‘I haven’t wasted my time in thinking about him.’ ‘And Mr. Langstroth—how did you leave him?’ ‘Gilbert—oh, he’s flourishing. By the way, he sent a message to you,—rather a complimentary message—and he told me to be sure and not change it into the very reverse of what he wished it to be.’ Otho chuckled a little. ‘Let me see. He wished to be remembered to you, sent his best compliments, and hoped to see you again during the year—perhaps when he comes for the shooting. I fancy Gilbert was a bit taken with you, Eleanor. He was mighty particular about his message.’ ‘You fancy very uncalled-for things.’ ‘Hey, but I wouldn’t mind having him for a brother-in-law,’ persisted Otho; but he was too careless even to look at her as he aired his views. ‘A first-rate fellow is Gilbert, and he has rid me of those blessed factories, and stumped up like a man. I’ve never repented standing his friend when I did.’ She made no answer, and as they were alone (for Eleanor had judged it better to send Effie into the background) there was a silence—that profound silence only to be heard in the country. Suddenly Otho started, passed his hand over his eyes, and exclaimed impatiently— ‘What a hole of a place this is! What a deadly stillness; it’s enough to give one the blues. I’d open the window, only that would make it worse, letting in the “swish” of that beastly river, which is a sound I hate. I do detest the country,’ he continued, poking the fire with vigour. ‘Give me the pavement, and chambers, where you hear the rattle going on all night. This confounded place would depress the spirits of a dog, I do believe.’ ‘Does Magdalen know you are here? Why don’t you go up and see her?’ ‘Magdalen?’ He gave a little start. ‘Oh, never mind Magdalen! She understands me. She is not a child, nor a love-sick girl, to expect me to be always at her apron-strings. I shall see Magdalen, trust me. But I’m off into Friarsdale the day after to-morrow.’ ‘Friarsdale again!’ ‘Ay! There’s a heap of things to see after. I shall have to be back and forward from there till it’s time to take Crackpot down to Epsom.... Did you ever see a Derby, Eleanor?’ ‘No.’ ‘Would you like to?’ ‘Not when a horse of yours is running.’