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At a quarter past he was placing his umbrella in the stand at Park Lane he did not choose to relinquish his hat and coat; telling Warmson that he wanted to see his master, he went, without being announced, into the study, and sat down. James was still in the dining-room talking to Soames, who had come round again before breakfast.

Hailing a hansom, he got in and told the man to drive there. James and Emily had just gone up to bed, and after communicating the news to Warmson, Soames prepared to follow. He paused by after-thought to say: "What do you think of it, Warmson?"

'Poor old chap, he's as thin as a rail! And lowering his voice while his grandfather and Warmson were in discussion about sugar in the soup, he said to Emily: "It's pretty brutal at home, Granny. I suppose you know." "Yes, dear boy." "Uncle Soames was there when I left. I say, isn't there anything to be done to prevent a divorce? Why is he so beastly keen on it?"

He heard his grandmother's admiring, "Well, Val, that was plucky of you;" was conscious of Warmson deferentially filling his champagne glass; and of his grandfather's voice moaning: "I don't know what'll become of you if you go on like this."

He decided on Park Lane, not unmoved by the thought that to go up to Oxford without affording his grandfather a chance to tip him was hardly fair to either of them. His mother would hear he had been there, of course, and might think it funny; but he couldn't help that. He rang the bell. "Hullo, Warmson, any dinner for me, d'you think?" "They're just going in, Master Val. Mr.

Hailing a hansom, he got in and told the man to drive there. James and Emily had just gone up to bed, and after communicating the news to Warmson, Soames prepared to follow. He paused by after-thought to say: "What do you think of it, Warmson?"

Warmson, not without a sense of humour, opened the door beyond the stag's-horn coat stand, with the words: "Mr. Valerus, ma'am." "Confound him!" thought Val, entering. A warm embrace, a "Well, Val!" from Emily, and a rather quavery "So there you are at last!" from James, restored his sense of dignity. "Why didn't you let us know? There's only saddle of mutton. Champagne, Warmson," said Emily.

It seemed so right and simple a suggestion that even Winifred was surprised when she said: "No, I'll keep him now he's back; he must just behave that's all." They all looked at her. It had always been known that Winifred had pluck. "Out there!" said James elliptically, "who knows what cut-throats! You look for his revolver! Don't go to bed without. You ought to have Warmson to sleep in the house.

"Look here, Warmson, you go to the inner cellar, and on the middle shelf of the end bin on the left you'll see seven bottles; take the one in the centre, and don't shake it. It's the last of the Madeira I had from Mr. Jolyon when we came in here never been moved; it ought to be in prime condition still; but I don't know, I can't tell." "Very good, sir," responded the withdrawing Warmson.

He had certainly done something heroic and exceptional in giving his age as twenty-one. Emily's voice brought him back to earth. "You mustn't have a second glass, James. Warmson!" "Won't they be astonished at Timothy's!" burst out Imogen. "I'd give anything to see their faces. Do you have a sword, Val, or only a popgun?" "What made you?"