Connie confided in her father.

“You see, Father, he was Clifford’s gamekeeper: but he was an officer in the army in India. Only he is like Colonel C. E. Florence, who preferred to become a private soldier again.”

Sir Malcolm, however, had no sympathy with the unsatisfactory mysticism of the famous C. E. Florence. He saw too much advertisement behind all the humility. It looked just like the sort of conceit the knight most loathed, the conceit of self-abasement.

“Where did your gamekeeper spring from?” asked Sir Malcolm irritably.

“He was a collier’s son in Tevershall. But he’s absolutely presentable.”

The knighted artist became more angry.