Lord Tilchester entered the room, and said “How d’y do,” to me.  He is a gruff, unattractive person.  I do not know what Babykins sees in him.

He spent his time eating tea-cake and feeding the dogs, with a casual remark here and there.  At last he left.  I was glad.  Lady Tilchester’s manner to him is always gracious and complacent.  She attends to his wishes, and talks to him without yawning.  She must be my model for my future treating of Augustus This is the most perfect and beautiful lady in the world.  I think.

There were only a couple of men staying in the house besides myself until the Saturday, when a crowd of people came.  In these few days I got to know Margaret Tilchester more intimately.  Her beautiful nature would stand any test.  All her real and intense interests are concentrated upon her schemes to benefit mankind, practical, sensible schemes, with no sentiment about them.  I wish I could see her children.  The boy is, of course, at Eton, and the little girl is again away, visiting her grandmother.  There are dozens of photographs of them about, and the girl keeps reminding me of some one, I cannot fix who.  She looks a dear little creature.  Oh, I should love a baby!  But still I shall always pray I may never have a child.

The Duke arrived with the other guests on Saturday.  He looked just the same.  His reverse of fortune had not altered his appearance.  He seemed extremely glad to see me.

“You have heard how the affair went,” he said to me the first night after dinner.  “After keeping me in the most ridiculous position, dangling for weeks, she preferred Luffy.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“My only satisfaction out of the whole thing is that, for once, Cordelia is paid out in her own coin.  As a rule, she only cares to take away some one who belongs to some other woman, and now this little girl has turned the tables.”

“How spiteful of you, when Lady Grenellen was trying to arrange for your future happiness!”

“Nothing of the kind.  You don’t know Cordelia.  She is only afraid I shall shut up Myrlton, or let it, and she amuses herself a good deal there.  She thought if I had a rich wife her opportunities would oftener occur.  I can only keep it open in the autumn now.”

“Oh, you are a wonderful company!” I laughed.

“I wish you were a widow.  You would suit me in every way.”

“Hush!” I said, frowning.  “I do not like you to speak so, even in jest.”

“But I always told you I loved you,” he said, resignedly.

“Nonsense.  What is this ridiculous love you all speak about?  A silly passion that only wants what it cannot have, or, if it succeeds, immediately translates itself to some one else.  You told me so yourself.  You said at least you were not wearyingly faithful—­you, as a class.”

“How you confute one with argument, lovely lady!  I shall call you Portia.  But what an adorable Portia!”