Leonard believed that all this attention was due to his own fascinations. His head was still heated with the wine he had drunk, yet he began to regret that he had said anything about the yellow holly. Certainly he had not promised George to be silent on this especial point; but he nevertheless thought it wiser to hold his tongue about all that had taken place in Amelia Square on the night of the murder. Warned in this way by his mother sense, Train took no more wine, but after a rather dull conversation with Vane he went into the drawing-room. Dorothy was at the piano and thither repaired Vane; but Mrs. Ward, seated near the fire, called Leonard to her side. "I must introduce you: Lord Derrington--Mr. Train." The grandfather of George was a huge man, burly, red-faced, white-haired, and with a rather truculent expression. He was over seventy, yet carried his years like a boy. Under his bushy white eyebrows he shot a quick glance at Leonard from a pair of keen gray eyes and summed him up at once as a fool. But Lord Derrington had been a diplomatist many years before, and knew that even fools are sometimes useful. Moreover, he had learned from Mrs. Ward's aimless chatter that Train was a great friend of Brendon's, and he knew more about George than George thought. However, Derrington, after that one glance of contempt, was very civil to Leonard. "I am glad to meet you," he said, with a nod. "You go in for books, I understand from Mrs. Ward." He had a deep, raucous voice like that of an early starling, and spoke in an abrupt staccato kind of way. Train, who stood before him like a rabbit before a snake, compared him in his own mind with Becky Sharp's friend, the Marquis of Steyne. Derrington was quite as wicked and savage and unscrupulous as that celebrated nobleman. "I do write a little," said Leonard, nervously. "I believe in action rather than in writing," said Derrington. "There are far too many books written. Dreamers, all of you." "Dreams may come true." "And when they do come true, what is the use of them? Bah! In my young days we lived. Now people dream." "I'm sure there's no dreaming about society nowadays," said Mrs. Ward, laughing. "Every one is as sharp as a needle to get the better of his or her neighbor." "Mutual Deception Society," said Derrington. "You-give-me-so-much-and-I'll-let-you-go-so-far. That's the sort of thing." "But there is a great deal of philanthropy nowadays." "And what good does philanthropy do, Mr. Train?" said Derrington; "only makes people lazy. People are too sentimental. I would give half these paupers the cat if I had my way."