“Opera dancers,” she said darkly.

Davenant smiled. “Well, Fanny, I deplore it as much as you do, but I believe you cannot say that no one ever saw Avon — ”

He was interrupted. “I am very fond of Justin,” said Lady Fanny tartly, “but I never pretended to approve of his conduct. And with all his faults Justin was ever bon ton. It is no such thing with Vidal. If he were my son, I should never have consented to let him live anywhere but under my roof. My own dear John scarce leaves my side.”

Hugh bowed. “I know you are very fortunate in your son, Fanny,” he said.

She sighed. “Indeed, he is prodigiously like his poor papa.”

Hugh made no reply to this but merely bowed again. Knowing her ladyship as he did, he was perfectly well aware that her son’s staid disposition was something of a disappointment to her.

“I am sure,” said Lady Fanny, with a touch of defiance, “that if I heard of my John holding — holding orgies with all the wildest young rakes in town I should die of mortification.”

He frowned. “Orgies, Fanny?”

“Orgies, Hugh. Pray do not ask more.”

Davenant had heard a good many stories concerning the doings of Vidal’s particular set, and bearing in mind what these stories were, he was somewhat surprised that they should have come to Lady Fanny’s ears. From her expression of outraged virtue he inferred that she really had heard some of the worst tales. He wondered whether John Marling had been her informant, and reflected that in spite of his excesses one could not but like the Marquis better than his impeccable cousin.

At that moment Mr. John Marling came across the room towards his mother. He was a good-looking young man of rather stocky build, dressed very neatly in Spanish-brown velvet. He was in his thirtieth year, but the staidness of his demeanour made him appear older. He greeted Davenant with a bow and a grave smile, and had begun to inquire politely after the older man’s health, when his mother interrupted him.