I was getting my living, in my way (as a crusty old Scotch
lawyer), when my brother married again. His death, without leaving a son
by either of his wives, gave me a lift in the world, like you. Here I
am (to my own sincere regret) the present baronet. Yes, to my sincere
regret! All sorts of responsibilities which I never bargained for are
thrust on my shoulders. I am the head of the family; I am my niece's
guardian; I am compelled to appear at this lawn-party--and (between
ourselves) I am as completely out of my element as a man can be. Not a
single familiar face meets _me_ among all these fine people. Do you know
any body here?"
"I have one friend at Windygates," said Arnold. "He came here this
morning, like you. Geoffrey Delamayn."
As he made the reply, Miss Silvester appeared at the entrance to the
summer-house. A shadow of annoyance passed over her face when she saw
that the place was occupied. She vanished, unnoticed, and glided back to
the game.
Sir Patrick looked at the son of his old friend, with every appearance
of being disappointed in the young man for the first time.
"Your choice of a friend rather surprises me," he said.
Arnold artlessly accepted the words as an appeal to him for information.
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