“It’s been a day of great excitement. Mary, my dear, we have reason to be proud and grateful. The boy has turned into a fine young fellow. I wish you could have seen his face when I told him about the shootin’. He stared at me as if the heavens had fallen. And his concern, of course, was entirely on my account. Very gratifying—very. Another thing. No entanglements. I hinted at marriage, a nice little girl with a bit o’ money. He laughed and replied: ‘Why not?’ Of course, there must be no pressure, not a pennyweight. But I warn you, he has ideas. He marches—a—with the times.” “Do you mean away from—us?” “That remains to be seen. He is keen about his profession.” “You regret that?” “Yes, and no. Our grandchildren, Mary, will wean him from pipeclay.” As he spoke, he kissed her tranquil face and whispered a compliment. “You looked so young and pretty to-night. I hardly see you as a grandmother.” She touched his arm softly. “We won’t count those blessed chicks till they’re hatched.” Something in her tone arrested the Squire’s attention. He said sharply: “Why not, Mary? Anticipation in such a vital matter is a joy that I, most certainly, shall not renounce.” “If—if there should be disappointment?” “Why apprehend anything so unlikely?” “Because Lady Margot—if your dreams come true—is the last of her branch of the family. I have never seen her in _my_ dreams with a baby in her pretty arms.” “Nonsense, Mary, nonsense. Sitting up late is always bad for you. To bed with you! I shall go to my dressing-room.” He moved to the dressing-room door, and then came back, half-smiling, half-frowning. “I see the fly in your ointment. Lady Margot is _petite_. And what of it? Large women do not necessarily have large families. Mrs. Hamlin was no bigger than Lady Margot, and she presented Hamlin with four whoppin’ big boys. I have often wondered, my dear Mary, why the wives of poor parsons are so needlessly prolific.” Lady Pomfret smiled ironically. “The doctrine of Compensation, Geoffrey.” “Perhaps. Now—pop into bed!” In the bachelor’s wing Lionel was smoking the last cigarette before turning in. He stood at the widely open window, staring at the park, lying silver-white beneath a waning moon. Against the silvery spaces of turf the yews stood out sharply black—_sable_ upon _argent_. The fallow deer were grazing just beyond the lawn. In the distance he could see the winding line of the river.