Then, with a graceful celerity, which was
more than diplomatic, he disappeared. Thorpe, with more
difficulty, recovered a sort of stolidity of expression
that might pass for composure. He in turn gave his
hand to the newcomer, and nodded to him, and achieved a doubtful smile.
"Come in!" he said, haltingly. "Where did you drop from?
Glad to see you! How are all your people?"
A moment later the young Viscount was seated in the chair
which the elderly Marquis had vacated. He presented
therein a figure which, in its way, was perhaps as courtly
as the other had been--but the way was widely different.
Lord Plowden's fine, lithe form expressed no deference
in its easy postures. His handsome face was at no
pains to assume conciliatory or ingratiating aspects.
His brilliant brown eyes sparkled a confident, buoyant gaze
full into the heavy, lethargic countenance of the big man
at the desk.
"I haven't bothered you before," he said, tossing his
gloves into his hat, and spreading his frock-coat
out by its silk lapels. He crossed his legs,
and sat back with a comfortable smile. "I knew you
were awfully busy--and I kept away as long as I could.
But now--well, the truth is--I'm in rather of a hole.
I hope you don't mind my coming."
"Why not at all," said Thorpe, laconically. After a momentary
pause he added: "The Marquis has just been consulting me
about the postponement of the annual meeting.
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