The rest of the
party were only just in sight a field or two off.
"Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling
towards him.
"Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one."
Lord Runton produced his case, and a servant brought them matches. They
both leaned over the gate, and watched the scattered little party slowly
coming towards them.
"Who is your friend Fielding?" Duncombe asked, a little bluntly.
"Fellow from New York," Lord Runton answered. "He's been very decent to
my brother out there, and Archibald wrote and asked me to do all we
could for them. The girl is very handsome. You'll see her at dinner
to-night."
"Here for long?"
"No, unfortunately," Lord Runton answered. "I had very hard work to get
them to come at all. Cicely has written them three or four times, I
think, but they've always had engagements. They're only staying till
Monday, I think. Very quiet, inoffensive sort of chap, Fielding, but the
girl's a ripper! Hullo! Here they are. I'll introduce you."
A groom had thrown open the gate of the field across which they were
looking, and Lady Runton from the box seat of a small mail phaeton waved
her whip.
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