Farquhar smoked on steadily. It was some time before he spoke. Lord Saxham was now slumbering peacefully after his heavy dinner and his third glass of port. He looked just a little contemptuously at the somnolent figure. At Lord Saxham's age, he expected to be Lord Chancellor, alert and vigorous. When he spoke, he did not answer her question. Rather, he pursued the train of his own thoughts. "It seems to me. Lady Mary," he said, speaking very softly, so that he should not disturb the slumbers of his host, "that in a measure you bear upon your shoulders--very capable shoulders, I will admit--the entire burden of your family." Mary protested feebly. "Oh, no, don't think that for a moment. My father is very vigorous as a rule. Eric is quite a nice boy, just a little wild, perhaps. And Guy has got lots of grit; he will make good yet. I cannot thank Isobel enough for teaching us how cowardly we were for wanting to have him recalled." "Isobel has tons of grit," said Farquhar shortly. "She comes from a fighting line." "Yes, Isobel, as you say, has tons of grit." Lady Mary looked at him curiously. "You are very fond of your cousin, are you not, Mr Farquhar?" "I am very fond of Isobel," said the young barrister quietly. "We were brought up as children together. I was a few years her senior. I used to carry her about as a little child." Mary looked at him again, and for a second time a faint flush dyed her fair cheek. "Will you think it very impertinent of me, Mr Farquhar, if I suggest that you were very much in love with your pretty cousin?" Farquhar shook his head. "I don't deny it for a moment. I was very much in love with Isobel. I always wanted her for my wife, but the consideration of ways and means prevented. When I did ask her, I learned that she had accepted your brother--" "And you are still in love with her?" questioned Mary, a little eagerly. "It is no use being in love with a girl who is betrothed to another man. It is one of those vain dreams that a sensible man dismisses. Isobel Clandon is to me now a dear cousin, a good friend." Somehow, Lady Mary looked relieved. She spoke lightly. "You will get over it, and one day you will marry. And when you are Lord Chancellor, your wife will be the first female subject in the kingdom." "And Isobel will be the wife of an Ambassador," said Farquhar. "We shall run each other close, shall we not?" Mary laughed. "Oh, Guy will never have stamina enough to become an Ambassador. When he comes into dear old Aunt Henrietta's money, he will throw it all over, and lead his pleasant old idle life. I know Guy too well." "Don't you think Isobel will put grit into him?" "Isobel is a loving woman. She will always see eye to eye with Guy. Whatever he determines, she will acquiesce in." Farquhar sighed. Ambition was always with him the dominating note. He regretted its absence in others. "A pity," he said. "With your family influence, he might go far."