The tone was gay, even amused. Lady Coryston realized at once she was being scanned by a very sharp pair of eyes, and that their owner was, or seemed to be, in no sort of embarrassment. The first advantage, indeed, had been gained by the younger woman. Lady Coryston had approached her with the formality of a stranger. Enid Glenwilliam's easy greetings suggested that they had already met in many drawing-rooms. Miss Glenwilliam offered a seat. "Are you afraid of the grass? We could easily go indoors." "Thank you. This does very well. It was very kind of you to say you would see me." "I was delighted--of course." There was a moment's pause. The two women observed each other. Lady Coryston had taken Marion's chair, and sat erect upon it. Her face, with its large and still handsome features, its prominent eyes and determined mouth, was well framed in a black hat, of which the lace strings were tied under her chin. Her flowing dress and scarf of some thin black material, delicately embroidered with jet, were arranged, as usual, with a view to the only effect she ever cared to make--the effect of the great lady, in command--clearly--of all possible resources, while far too well bred to indulge in display or ostentation. Enid Glenwilliam's blood had quickened, in spite of her apparent ease. She had taken up an ostrich-feather fan--a traditional weapon of the sex--and waved it slowly to and fro, while she waited for her visitor to speak. "Miss Glenwilliam," began Lady Coryston, "you must no doubt have thought it a strange step that I should ask you for this conversation?" The tone of this sentence was slightly interrogative, and the girl on the grass nodded gravely. "But I confess it seemed to me the best and most straightforward thing to do. I am accustomed to go to the point, when a matter has become serious; and I hate shilly-shallying. You, we all know, are very clever, and have much experience of the world. You will, I am sure, prefer that I should be frank." "Certainly," smiled Enid, "if I only knew what the matter was!" Lady Coryston's tone became a trifle colder. "That I should have thought was obvious. You have been seeing a great deal of my son, Miss Glenwilliam; your--your friendship with him has been very conspicuous of late; and I have it from himself that he is in love with you, and either has asked you, or will ask you, to marry him." "He has asked me several times," said the girl, quietly. Then, suddenly, she laughed. "I came away with my father this week-end, that I might, if possible, prevent his asking me again." "Then you have refused him?" The voice was indiscreetly eager. "So far." "So far? May I ask--does that mean that you yourself are still undecided?" "I have as yet said nothing final to him." Lady Coryston paused a few seconds, to consider the look presented to her, and then said, with emphasis: