“The house,” she replied, in such a voice that he no longer pretended ignorance.

“I’ve not made up my mind,” he said.

“You must! You must! Oh! Gran⁠—think of me!”

Old Jolyon grumbled out: “Think of you⁠—I’m always thinking of you, but you don’t think of yourself; you don’t think what you’re letting yourself in for. Well, order the carriage at ten!”

At a quarter past he was placing his umbrella in the stand at Park Lane⁠—he did not choose to relinquish his hat and coat; telling Warmson that he wanted to see his master, he went, without being announced, into the study, and sat down.

James was still in the dining-room talking to Soames, who had come round again before breakfast. On hearing who his visitor was, he muttered nervously: “Now, what’s he want, I wonder?”