Lois soothed her fears, and, though she did not wish to follow the example of the servants and speak of his lordship in terms of disparagement, she sufficiently reassured her friend that Lizzy neither fainted nor flew when she was introduced to the vacuous, young-old man. He was standing with his back to the empty fireplace in the drawing-room, a cigarette drooping from his lips, when Lois ushered her friend into his presence. He gave Lizzy a feeble handshake. “Awfully glad to meet you. Nice weather we’re having,” he said, and to Lois: “Her ladyship’s gone, I suppose? That beastly bounder Praye called for her.” Lois remembered the scene, of which she had been an unwilling witness, and Mr. Chesney Praye’s attitude towards the countess, which seemed inexplicable, was within her understanding. Chesney Praye was something more than a financial adviser. Apparently he had advised the lady in affairs of the heart only too well, though Lois found it rather difficult to imagine the masterful countess in a tender mood. “Perfectly beastly bounder,” said his lordship with such energy that she realised that the spirit of revolt was not wholly crushed. “That wretched boozing doctor is bad, but Chesney Praye is worse! I call him a bird of prey--that’s not bad, what? Chesney, the bird of prey!” He chuckled at his mild jest and visibly brightened under the influence of his own humour. This was the second reference that had been made to the mysterious doctor. Lois wondered if she would be called upon to meet him. “Well, I’m glad she’s gone with her bird of prey. Let’s go along and have some grub.” Lizzy’s jaw dropped at the sound of this familiar vulgarism; and that moment probably marked the beginning of an interest in the aristocracy which was fated to grow in intensity. It was one of the most cheerful dinners that Lois remembered, and certainly for his lordship it was an hilarious feast, for he trotted out his joke about “bird of prey” some half a dozen times, and on each occasion with an increasing measure of amusement. “I didn’t see the joke at first,” said Lizzy, wiping her eyes. “His name’s Praye,” explained his lordship eagerly. “I call him the bird of prey--rather good, what? Let’s play draughts. I’m rather a dab at draughts.” It was an opportunity to learn to know him better and Lois very skilfully drew him out. He had been to a public school--he thought it was Harrow; in fact, he was pretty sure it was Harrow--for two years, and then his mother had taken him away. He hated school life; it was rough. Since then he had practically not left his mother. He thought he was a member of one of the clubs, but he wasn’t quite sure which one; at any rate, he had never been there. “You aren’t married?” asked Lois boldly. The question afforded him a tremendous amount of enjoyment.