"Thank Heaven, we are drifting back into the cosy ways of our ancestors," he said, as he leant against the corner of the mantelpiece nearest Flo's chair. "This ante-prandial tea is the most delightful invention, and if we could only bring ourselves to dispense with the dinner, how very agreeable our lives would be! Do you expect to see Mr. Lobyer this evening?" he asked Florence. "I think not. He talked about coming back to-morrow." "On Christmas-day! Ah, well, I suppose there is no Christmas for millionaires. Imagine the Marquis of Westminster eating turkey, and calling it Christmas! He could have turkeys all the year round. He might have a dish made of the tongues of a thousand turkeys on his breakfast-table every morning if he liked. There can be no such thing as change of season for the millionaire. His house is warmed from roof to basement with hot-air pipes, and he has peaches all the year round. I should like to have seen Lobyer to-day, and I have inflicted myself upon you most shamefully in the hope of seeing him." "I don't believe Nugent ever thought himself an infliction in the whole course of his life," cried the fast young lady cousin. "He is the vainest of men, and thinks that we ought all to be intensely grateful for having enjoyed the privilege of his society. All the girls in the North Riding spoil him, because he happens to be the most eligible bachelor on hand now that Lord Loncesvalle has married. I remember Lord Loncesvalle--such an elegant young fellow, when he was canvassing the Conservative interest for Chiverley. And I really think I wrote poetical squibs against his opponents. Pray run away, Nugent. It's no use your staying, for Mrs. Lobyer can't ask you to dinner in that coat; and it is time for us all to dress. Don't forget to write to Jeffs for the comedy we want to play on the 16th of January. Remember, you are to be the Marquis, and we must form a committee for the discussion of the costumes early next week." "I will ride over the day after to-morrow," answered Sir Nugent; "and I will bring the piece with me." He bent over Florence to shake hands and say good-bye, and there was in that adieu just the faintest suspicion of a something beyond the routine of ordinary acquaintance. He shook hands with his cousin, and went through a little fernery that opened from the morning-room and led out upon the terrace, below which his groom had been pacing up and down for the last half-hour leading the two horses. It was a clear moonlight night, and Miss Grace Evershed went to one of the windows to watch her cousin's departure. "Nugent must find our society amazingly delightful, or he would never have allowed Pyramus to wait half-an-hour in the cold," cried the young lady. "He is generally so absurdly particular about his horses--and Pyramus is a recent acquisition. I think Nugent gave something between four and five hundred for him."