Every one had gone except the Marquis and Grantham. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Then the Marquis, as though he were awaking from a dream, moved to the door, opened it and beckoned to David. "Will you follow me," he invited. Very slowly they passed along the great corridor, down the broad stairs and into the hall. The Marquis led the way to the front door and opened it. Neither had spoken. To Thain, every moment was a moment of agony. The Marquis held the door open and stood on one side. David realised that he was expected to depart without a word. "There is nothing more I can say?" he faltered despairingly. The Marquis stood upon his own threshold. He spoke slowly and with a curious lack of expression. "Nothing. It is the times that are to blame. We open our houses and offer our hospitality to servants and the sons of servants, and we expect them to understand our code. We are very foolish.--Since you have broken this silence, let me spare myself the necessity of further words. If your contrition is genuine, you will break the lease of Broomleys and depart from this neighbourhood without further delay. My agent will wait upon you." Without haste, yet before any reply was possible, the Marquis had closed the great door. David was once more in the darkness, staggering as though his knees would give way. The avenue stretched unevenly before him. He started off towards Broomleys. CHAPTER XXXIV At a few minutes after nine, the following morning, the Marquis entered the room where breakfast was usually served. The Duchess, in travelling clothes and a hat, was lifting the covers from the silver dishes upon the sideboard, with a fork in her hand. She welcomed him a little shortly. "Good morning, Reginald!" "Good morning, Caroline," he replied. "Are you the only representative of the household?" She snorted. "Charlie Grantham went off in his little two-seater at eight o'clock this morning," she announced. "He is motoring up to town. Left apologies with Gossett, I believe--telegram or something in the night. All fiddlesticks, of course!" "Naturally," the Marquis assented, helping himself from one of the dishes and drawing his chair up to his sister's side. "So exit Charles Grantham, eh?" "And me," the Duchess declared, returning to her place and pouring out the coffee. "I suppose you can send me to Fakenham for the ten o'clock train?" The Marquis considered for a moment. "I am not sure, Caroline," he said, "that your departure is entirely kind." "Well, I'm jolly certain I don't mean it to be," she answered bitterly. "I ask no questions, and I hate scenes. A week ago I should have scoffed at the idea of David Thain as a prospective suitor for Letitia. Now, my advice to you is, the sooner you can get them married, the better." "Really!" he murmured. "You've given up the idea, then, of taking the young man to Scotland?"