I thanked her a little absently--perhaps without sufficient gratitude, for she was a kind-hearted little woman, although she was such a terrible flirt. But I was eager to watch Maud go by--eager even to be brushed by her garments as she passed. She half stopped as she reached me. "I won't allow you to flirt with Lady Olive," she whispered, with a bewitching little _moue_; then added out loud: "Come to us as soon as ever you can, Mr. Arbuthnot. We want to commence dancing in good time." I bowed, and letting fall the curtain, turned back to the table. Sir Francis motioned me to take the vacant place by his side, and filled my glass himself from the decanter which stood at his elbow. "Hugh, my boy," he said, slowly--he had got into the habit of calling me Hugh lately--"I'm upset!" I looked into his handsome old face, and saw that it was clouded over, and there was a heavy frown on his brow. "I'm sorry, sir," I ventured to say. "Thanks. I knew you would be. I don't suppose a man ought to be sorry because his son's coming to see him, ought he?" It depended upon the son, I thought. "Ay, it depends upon the son, of course," he said, thoughtfully, stroking his long grey moustache. "There is nothing against Maud's father, nothing at all. He's nothing like that young cub of his down there," he went on, jerking his head to where Francis Devereux was talking very loudly and drinking a good deal of champagne. "And yet I don't want him here. I can't bear to see him in the place. It's a damned funny thing." "If you feel like that, sir," I said, keeping my eyes fixed upon the tablecloth, "depend upon it, it's your son's fault. He's done something to deserve it." Sir Francis sat silent for a while, toying with his glasses. "He has done nothing," he said, half to himself, "and yet I hate the sight of him, and he of me. It is twelve years since he set foot within Devereux Court. Twelve years! I wonder what his fancy is for coming now. Would to God he had stopped away!" "Sir Francis," exclaimed a voice from the lower end of the table, "a promise to ladies is sacred. We were told that ten minutes was as long as we could be allowed this evening, and we have pledged our words. Have we your permission?" "Certainly, gentlemen." Sir Francis rose, and there was a general draining of glasses and a stretching of masculine forms. Then we followed him across the hall into the blue drawing-room. I should have made my way at once to Maud but a look in her eyes checked me, and I turned aside and sat down in an empty recess. I had scarcely commenced to turn over the pages of a book of engravings which I had carelessly taken up, when I heard a voice at my elbow. "As usual, Mr. Arbuthnot, you make me come to you. It's too bad of you." I put down the book with a start, and stood up. Lady Olive was at my elbow.