He had not imagined, upon his first setting eyes on the Earl, that he could learn to like, or even to tolerate, this lazy, faintly mocking exquisite, but he had not, after all, experienced the least difficulty in doing both. At the end of a month he had discovered that just as his lordship’s laced and scented coats concealed an extremely powerful frame, so his weary eyelids drooped over eyes that could become as keen as the brain behind. Yielding to my lord’s charm, he accepted his vagaries if not with approval at least with tolerance.

The Earl’s intention to enter the married state took him by surprise. He had no notion of such a scheme until a morning two days after his lordship had visited Lady Winwood in South Street. Then, as he sat at his desk in the library, Rule strolled in after a late breakfast, and perceiving the pen in his hand, complained: “You are always so damnably busy, Arnold. Do I give you so much work?”

Mr Gisborne got up from his seat at the desk. “No, sir, not enough.”

“You are insatiable, my dear boy.” He observed some papers in Mr Gisborne’s grasp, and sighed. “What is it now?” he asked with resignation.

“I thought, sir, you might wish to see these accounts from Meering,” suggested Mr Gisborne.

“Not in the least,” replied his lordship, leaning his big shoulders against the mantelpiece.

“Very well, sir.” Mr Gisborne laid the papers down, and said tentatively: “You won’t have forgotten that there is a Debate in the House today which you will like to take part in?”

His Lordship’s attention had wandered; he was scrutinizing his own top-boot (for he was dressed for riding) through a long-handled quizzing-glass, but he said in a mildly surprised voice: “Which I shall what, Arnold?”