Since his taste ran to politics, the golden opportunity had not so far offered itself, the Marquis not sharing his ambition, and consequently making infrequent appearances in the Upper House; but he was allowed to write such brief speeches as his patron felt that it behooved him to utter, and even, now and then, to favour him with his own political convictions.

Furthermore, he had found it quite impossible to dislike Alverstoke. While he was given no reason to suppose that Alverstoke was interested in his concerns, he found him to be as unexacting as he was amiable, and never disagreeably high in the instep. Comparing notes with a college-friend, in a similar situation, whose employer appeared to regard him as a cross between a black slave and an upper servant, Charles knew himself to be fortunate. Alverstoke could give an annihilating snub to some encroaching mushroom, but if his secretary erred he raked him down in a manner which was unexceptionable, since it conveyed no suggestion of social superiority. Charles’s friend had curt commands flung at him; Charles received civil requests, generally accompanied by one of his lordship’s more attractive smiles. Try as Charles would, he could not resist Alverstoke’s charm, any more than he could withhold admiration for his horsemanship, and his proficiency in a great many sporting activities.

“I collect,” said the Marquis, faint amusement in his eyes, “from your hesitant air and sheepish demeanour, that you feel it to be your duty to put me in mind of yet another obligation. Take my advice, and don’t do it! I shall take it very unkind in you, and very likely fly up into the boughs.”

A grin dispelled the gravity of Mr Trevor’s countenance. “You never do, sir,” he said simply. “And it isn’t an obligation — at least, I don’t think it is! Only I thought you would like to know of it.”

“Oh, did you? In my experience, whenever those words are uttered they are the prelude to something I would liefer not know.”

“Yes,” said Mr Trevor ingenuously, “but I wish you will read this letter! As a matter of fact, I promised Miss Merriville that you would!”

“And who,” demanded his lordship, “is Miss Merriville?”

“She said you would know, sir.”

“Really, Charles, you should know me better than to suppose that I carry in my head the names of all the — ” He stopped, his brows drawing together. “Merriville,” he repeated thoughtfully.

“I believe, sir, some sort of connection of yours.”

“A very remote sort! What the devil does she want?”

Mr Trevor offered him a sealed letter. He took it, but said severely: “You would be very well served if I put it into the fire, and left you to explain how it was that you were not, after all, able to see to it that I read it!” He broke the seal and opened the letter. It did not take him long to master its contents. He raised his eyes when he came to the end, and directed a look of pained enquiry at Mr Trevor. “Are you a trifle out of sorts, Charles? On the toodle last night, and not feeling quite the thing today?”

“No, of course not!” said Mr Trevor, shocked.

“Well, what, in heaven’s name, has made you suddenly queer in your attic?”

“I’m not! I mean — ”

“You must be. Never before, in the three years of our association, have you failed to make my excuses to my more importunate relatives! As for encouraging the dirty dishes amongst them — ”

“That I am persuaded they are not, sir! I fancy they may not be affluent, but — ”

“Dirty dishes,” repeated his lordship firmly. “When one considers that my sister believes herself to be living quite out of the world in Grosvenor Place, what can one think of persons owning to Upper Wimpole Street? And if — ” he glanced down at the letter again — ”and if this F. Merriville is the daughter of the only member of the family with whom I ever had the slightest acquaintance you may depend upon it she hasn’t a souse, and hopes I may be so obliging as to remedy this.”

“No, no!” Mr Trevor said. “I hope I know better than to encourage such persons as that!”

“So do I,” agreed his lordship. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Friends of yours, Charles?”

“I never saw them before in my life, sir,” replied Mr Trevor stiffly. “I should perhaps assure your lordship that I should consider it grossly improper to try to introduce any of my friends to your notice.”

“Well, don’t poker up about it! I really didn’t mean to insult you,” said Alverstoke mildly.

“No, sir, of course not!” Mr Trevor said, mollified. “I beg pardon! The thing is — Well, I had best explain to you how it came about that I did meet Miss Merriville!”

“Do!” invited Alverstoke.

“She brought the letter herself,” disclosed Mr Trevor. “The carriage drew up just as I was about to enter the house — you see, you gave me very little to do today, so I thought you wouldn’t object to it if I went out to purchase some new neck-cloths for myself!”

“Now, what can have put such an idea as that into your head?”

Another grin was drawn from his staid secretary. “You did, sir. Well, the long and short of it is that Miss Merriville got down from the carriage, the letter in her hand, as I was mounting the steps. So — ”

“Ah!” interpolated Alverstoke. “No footman! Probably a job-carriage.”

“As to that, sir, I don’t know. At all events, I asked her if I could be of service — telling her that I was your secretary — and we fell into conversation — and I said that I would give you her letter, and — well — ”

“See to it that I read it,” supplied Alverstoke. “Describe this charmer to me, Charles!”

“Miss Merriville?” said Mr Trevor, apparently at a loss. “Well, I didn’t notice her particularly, sir! She was very civil, and unaffected, and — and certainly not what you call a dirty dish! I mean — ” He paused, trying to conjure up a picture of Miss Merriville. “Well, I don’t know much about such things, but it seemed to me that she was dressed with elegance! Quite young, I think — though not in her first season. Or even,” he added reflectively, “in her second season.” He drew a long breath, and uttered, in reverent accents: “It was the other one, sir!”

“Yes?” said Alverstoke encouragingly, the amusement deepening in his eyes.

Mr Trevor seemed to find it difficult to express himself; but after a pause, during which he obviously conjured up a heavenly vision, he said earnestly: “Sir, I have never before seen, or — or even dreamed of such a lovely girl! Her eyes! So big, and of such a blue! Her hair! like shining gold! The prettiest little nose, too, and her complexion quite exquisite! And when she spoke — ”

“But what were her ankles like?” interrupted his lordship.

Mr Trevor blushed, and laughed. “I didn’t see her ankles, sir, for she remained in the carriage. I was particularly struck by the sweetness of her expression, and her soft voice. In fact, there is something very taking about her — if you know what I mean!”

“I have a very fair notion.”

“Yes, well — well, when she leaned forward, and smiled, and begged me to give the letter to you, I promised her I would do so — even though I knew you wouldn’t be above half pleased!”

“You wrong me, Charles. I confess you haven’t aroused the smallest desire in me to make Miss Merriville’s acquaintance, but I must certainly meet her companion. Who, by the way, is she?”

“I am not perfectly sure, sir, but I fancy she might be Miss Merriville’s sister, though she is not at all like her. Miss Merriville called her Charis.”

“That confirms me in my dislike of Miss Merriville. Of all abominable abbreviations I think Carrie the most repulsive!”

“No, no!” expostulated Mr Trevor. “You misunderstood me, sir! Of course it isn’t Carrie! Miss Merriville distinctly said Charis! And I thought that never was anyone more aptly named, for it means ‘grace,’ you know — from the Greek!”

“Thank you, Charles,” said his lordship meekly. “Where should I be without you?”

“I thought you might have forgotten, sir — your memory being so bad!”

The Marquis acknowledged this demure hit by lifting one of his strong, slender hands in a fencer’s gesture. “Very well, Charles — damn your impudence!”

Encouraged, Mr Trevor said: “Miss Merriville said she hoped you would call in Upper Wimpole Street, sir: will you?”

“I daresay — if you can assure me that I shall find the beautiful Charis there.”

Mr Trevor was unable to do this, but he knew better than to urge the matter further, and withdrew, not unhopeful of the issue.

Thinking it over, later, it occurred to him that in exposing Charis to Alverstoke’s destructive notice he might be doing her a vast disservice. He was not afraid that Alverstoke would try to seduce a gently-born female of tender years, however beautiful she might be: his lordship’s gallantries did not include such wanton acts as that; but he did fear that he might, if Charis captured his fancy, lure her into one of his a suivie flirtations, bestowing a flattering degree of attention upon her and perhaps leading her to think that he had formed a lasting passion for her. Remembering Charis’s melting look, and appealing smile, Mr Trevor felt that her heart could easily be broken, and his conscience smote him. Then he reflected that she could hardly be alone in the world, and decided that her protection from a notorious flirt might safely be left to her parents. Besides, very young females ranked high on the list of the things Alverstoke rated as dead bores. As for Miss Merriville, Mr Trevor felt that she was very well able to take care of herself. He had been dazzled by her beautiful companion, but he retained a vague impression of a self-possessed female, with a slightly aquiline nose, and an air of friendly assurance. He did not think that she would be easily taken-in. Further reflection convinced him that no attempt would be made to trifle with her affections: it was unlikely that so noted a connoisseur of beauty as Alverstoke would deem her worthy of a second glance. In fact, it was even more unlikely that he would in any way bestir himself on her behalf.