Letitia, who to David's keen observation seemed already to have lost something of that strange new quality which she had shown to him only a few moments ago, shook her head. "The Vicar and Mrs. Vicar, and the Turnbulls, and Sylvia's father." "I am not going to be bored," the Duchess declared firmly. "I insist upon sitting next to Mr. Thain. How pretty Sylvia looks! And what a becoming colour! Now listen to me, David Thain," she went on, drawing him a little on one side, "you are not to flirt with that child. It's like shooting them before they begin to fly. You understand?" "Not guilty," David protested. "I can assure you that I am a passive victim." "Silly little goose," the Duchess murmured under her breath, "waiting there for you to go and speak to her, with all sorts of sentimental nonsense shining out of her great eyes, too. I shall go and talk to old General Turnbull till the gong goes. Why we can't have dinner punctually with a small party like this, I can't imagine." Sylvia was certainly glad to welcome David. Her father came up in a few moments and shook hands heartily. "Still buy your own cutlets, eh, Mr. Thain?" he asked. "Jolly good cutlets they were, too!" "I suppose you have a housekeeper and all sorts of things," Sylvia laughed, "and live in what they call regal magnificence." David's protest was almost eager. "I have a man and his wife who came down with me from London," he said, "and one or two servants--very few, I can assure you. Won't you come and try my housekeeping, Colonel, before you move on, and bring Miss Sylvia?" "With pleasure, my boy," the Colonel declared. "We leave for town next Saturday. Any day between now and then that suits Sylvia." Dinner was announced, and David found himself placed at a round table between the Duchess and Sylvia. The former looked around the banqueting hall with a shiver. "Reginald," she protested, "why on earth do you plant us in the middle of a vault like this? Why on earth not open up some of the smaller rooms?" The Marquis smiled deprecatingly. His extreme pallor of the last few days had disappeared. He seemed younger, and his tone was more alert. "This room is really a weakness of mine," he confessed. "I like a vaulted roof, and I rather like the shadows. It isn't damp, if that is what you are thinking of, Caroline. We have had fires in it ever since we came down--timber being the only thing for which we don't have to pay," he added. "It makes one feel so insignificant," the Duchess sighed. "If you were dining fifty or sixty people, of course, I should love it, but a dozen of us--why, we seem like spectral mites! Look at old Grand-Uncle Philip staring at us," she went on, gazing at one of the huge pictures opposite. "Pity you cannot afford to have electric light here, Reginald, and have it set in the frames."