Isobel welcomed him warmly. "How good of you, Maurice, to come so soon, and of course you are frightfully busy. I am afraid grief makes one very selfish." "I don't think you were ever very selfish, Isobel," replied Farquhar in his grave, quiet tones. "I am, as you say, frightfully busy, but I have handed over all my briefs to a friend, and I am going to see you through all this sad business. I suppose you have wired to the Head of the Family?" Isobel's lip curled a little. "Yes, I have wired to the Head of the Family. I have got his answer. He is coming down to-morrow. My true friends are here to-day, yourself, and Lady Mary Rossett. By the way, how remiss of me not to have introduced you." Lady Mary rose, and held out her hand to the rising young barrister. "But, dear Isobel, we have met before, on that well-remembered evening at the Savoy. You will no doubt recollect, Mr Farquhar, you were dining with a very dark-complexioned gentleman, evidently a foreigner." "Of course, I remember perfectly. The man who was my guest is my old friend Andres Moreno, a very capable journalist." Lady Mary looked approvingly at the grave young barrister. Her heart was, of course, buried in the grave of the young Guardsman, but she felt a pleasurable thrill in this new acquaintance. There was something in his sedate demeanour that appealed to her practical and well-ordered nature--a nature that was apt occasionally to be disturbed by tempestuous and romantic moods. "Where are you putting up?" asked Lady Mary casually. "At the `Queen's,'" answered Farquhar. "Oh, so am I. I have taken a suite of rooms for myself and maid, while I am looking after dear Isobel. But it will be a little bit dull. Are you dining in the general room?" "I certainly shall--unless--" Farquhar looked towards Isobel. Poor Isobel looked very distressed. "You are both such darlings," she said, in her candid, impulsive way. "I should like to put you both up, to ask you to stay. But I shall be such poor company for you." They both understood. The bereaved girl wanted to be left alone with her dead, for that day at least. She welcomed their sympathy, but they could not mourn with her whole-hearted mourning. Farquhar and Lady Mary drove back in the car to the "Queen's." Farquhar suggested tea. Lady Mary accepted the invitation willingly. There was something about this serious young barrister that attracted her. Over the teacups they chatted. "Tell me, are you going to be Lord Chancellor some day? You have plenty of time." It was Lady Mary who put the question. Farquhar caught the spirit of her gay humour. "Oh, no, nothing so stupendous as that. In my wildest dreams, I have never aspired to be anything higher than Solicitor or Attorney-General. I shall probably end by being a police magistrate, and cultivate a reputation for saying smart things."