I say, I suppose she wouldn't
let us run up to hear him to-morrow?"
"Not she."
He sighed, and it was a grown-up sigh issuing from a child's throat, for
he loved music and had read the programme.
"How glorious the last one was! Upon my word, if I were you, I'd marry
Theo just to be that man's daughter-in-law."
Again she laughed and laid her hand on his head.
"Good old Thomas. He's a Norman peasant, remember--probably eats with
his knife. Oh, here's a motor--and it is Theo himself."
"Yes, speak of an angel and you hear his horn."
"Shall I tell him of your plan?" she teased as the motor slowed up.
But Tommy had disappeared, and in his place, small, freckled, and
untidy, it is true, but a gentlemanly host welcoming his mother's guest,
stood Lord Kingsmead.
CHAPTER TWO
Lady Kingsmead was one of those piteous beings, a middle-aged young
woman. She was forty-six, but across a considerably-lighted room looked
thirty-six. The shock, when one approached her, was so much the greater.
Her plentiful, grey-streaked hair dwelt in disgrace behind a glossy
transformation, and her face had, from constant massage and make-up, a
curious air of not belonging to her any more than did the wavy hair
above it.
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