"My dear, there's nothing else within miles of her. I believe the Chase is next nearest. By the bye, think I'll ride over there this afternoon and tell her ladyship the news. Come with me, old girl?" "I believe I will," said Joey. "Let's see, what's the first day it will be decent to call at Omberleigh?" "Not till further orders," laughed her husband. "Mrs. G. will send out cards when she is ready to receive. Poor little soul. I thought she looked as if she hoped somebody would throw her a rope before long. Old Gaunt. My hat!" "You call him old," observed Joey after a pause, during which she took out her handkerchief and thoughtfully scrubbed Tom's nose, "but he's only five or six years older than you." "And looks twenty years older." "That's only because he doesn't care what he looks like. Perhaps she'll furbish him up." "Just fancy," burst out her husband. "That sweet little creature up there in his clutches. It makes one shudder. I wonder if he talks to her about manure? What should you suppose he _does_ talk about, eh?" "You can search me," responded Mrs. Ferris tranquilly. She never spoke English where slang could conveniently be substituted. "It's one of these money transactions--like ours," she presently remarked. "She gets Gaunt and you got me. You are both of you adventurers." "They were saying, down at the market Hall, that she was a daughter of Bernard Mynors, of Lissendean, somewhere in Dorsetshire. Didn't your father know something of the family?" "He knew a General Mynors. Yes, he had a brother named Bernard, and their place was in Dorset. Came out of the top drawer, she did, if she's one of that lot. But stony, you know--simply stony. I wonder where he picked her up?" "You can search me," retorted Percy at once, and they both giggled. "All I can tell you about her is that she is It." * * * * * The bride appeared at lunch, pale but valiant. Gaunt was standing in the hall as she descended the stairs, and noticed that she leaned her hand upon the rail, and moved as if she were stiff. He decided that there was no doubt that this was a mere piece of humbug. She wished to impress him with an idea of helplessness, under cover of which she was forming some plan of campaign. She forced herself to eat a little, because he was watching her under his lowered lids. When she had done, and Hemming had left the room, he rose, came to her end of the table, produced from his pocket a handful of gem rings, and tossed them on the table-cloth. "Choose what you like," he said carelessly. The colour sprang hot to her face. With a dignified gesture she pushed away the jewels and rose to her feet. "After what you said yesterday, you cannot expect me to take presents from you," said she, making as if to pass from the room.