"
"Our young philanthropist will reassure you," Arranmore remarked, drily.
Lady Caroom sighed.
"I wonder how it is," she murmured, "that one's conscience and one's
digestion both grow weaker as one grows old. You and I, Arranmore, are
content to accept the good things of the earth as they come to us."
"With me," he answered, "it is the philosophy of approaching old age,
but you have no such excuse. With you it must be sheer callousness.
You are in an evil way, Lady Caroom. Do have another of these quails."
"You are very rude," she answered, "and extremely unsympathetic. But I
will have another quail."
"I do not Want to destroy your appetite, Mr. Brooks," Lady Sybil said,
"but this is--if not a farewell feast, something like it."
He looked at her with sudden interest.
"You are going away?" he exclaimed.
"Very soon," she assented. "We were so comfortable at Enton, and the
hunting has been so good, that we cut out one of our visits. Mamma
developed a convenient attack of influenza. But the next one is very
near now, and our host is almost tired of us.
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