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Updated: June 6, 2025
"I did not propose going at once," replied Guy Oscard, with a peculiar smile which Lady Cantourne thought she understood. "It will take me some time to set my affairs in order the will, and all that." Lady Cantourne waited with perfectly suppressed curiosity, and while she was waiting Millicent Chyne came into the room.
She will marry some one else, let us hope, before her wedding-dress goes out of fashion." "Millicent will have to get over it as she may. Her feelings need scarcely be taken into consideration." Lady Cantourne made a little movement towards the door. There was much to see to much of that women's work which makes weddings the wild, confused ceremonies that they are.
And it was from that eminently practical point that they departed into the future arranging that same, and filling up its blanks with all the wisdom of lovers and the rest of us. Lady Cantourne left them there for nearly an hour, in which space of time she probably reflected they could build up as rosy a future as was good for them to contemplate.
She sat down, with a graceful swing of her silken skirt which was habitual with her the remnant of a past day. Jack Meredith winced. He had seen a difference in his father, and Lady Cantourne was corroborating it. "The quarrel was not mine," he said. "I admit that I ought to have known him better. I ought to have spoken to him before asking Millicent. It was a mistake."
It was probable that Millicent Chyne was in the rooms; and she never doubted that she would know her face. "And I suppose you know that part of the world very well?" said Lady Cantourne, who had detected a change in her companion's manner. "Oh yes." "Have you ever heard of a place called Loango?" "Oh yes. I live there." "Indeed, how very interesting!
It was more than likely that in a few months he would recall his son, and, in the meantime, it never did a girl any good to be quarrelled over. Lady Cantourne was too clever a woman to object to the engagement. On the contrary, she allowed it to be understood that such a match was in many ways entirely satisfactory.
"Et moi?" she snapped impatiently. "Ah!" with a gesture learnt in some foreign court, "I can only ask your forgiveness. I can only remind you that she is not your daughter if she were she would be a different woman while he IS my son." Lady Cantourne nodded as if to indicate that he need explain no more. "How did you do it?" she asked quietly. "I did not do it.
The summer was not what it used to be, either. The evenings were so confoundedly cold. So he often stayed at home and read a book. He paused in the midst of a scientific definition and looked up with listening eyes. He had got into the way of listening to the passing wheels. Lady Cantourne sometimes called for him on her way to a festivity, but it was not that.
"There comes the favoured one," Lady Cantourne muttered, with a veiled glance towards her companion. Sir John's grey eyes followed the direction of her glance. "My bright boy?" he inquired, with a wealth of sarcasm on the adjective. "Your bright boy," she replied. "I hope not," he said curtly.
"Not too strong," added Sir John, apparently to himself, under the cover of Mr. Grubb's somewhat scrappy greeting. Then Lady Cantourne went to the conservatory and left Sir John and Jocelyn at the end of the long room together. There is nothing like a woman's instinct. Jocelyn spoke at once. "Lady Cantourne," she said, "kindly asked me to meet you to-day on purpose.
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