He was a lean little man with grey-blue eyes
in his brown face, and his cracked voice was the worst thing in his
effect.
"Hope you don't mind us coming this way, Ponderevo," he cried; and my
uncle, who was sometimes a little too general and generous with titles,
answered, "Not at all, my lord, not at all! Glad you make use of it!"
"You're building a great place over the hill," said Carnaby.
"Thought I'd make a show for once," said my uncle. "It looks big because
it's spread out for the sun."
"Air and sunlight," said the earl. "You can't have too much of them. But
before our time they used to build for shelter and water and the high
road."
Then I discovered that the silent figure behind the earl was Beatrice.
I'd forgotten her sufficiently to think for a moment that she hadn't
changed at all since she had watched me from behind the skirts of Lady
Drew. She was looking at me, and her dainty brow under her broad brimmed
hat--she was wearing a grey hat and loose unbuttoned coat--was knit with
perplexity, trying, I suppose, to remember where she had seen me before.
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