They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. I wasn’t. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. They were true noblemen, men of the court. ” His voice conveyed studied moderation. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. But to live at peace with your neighbour….
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