“I am advising you for your good,” returned the Count, with a smile of quiet contempt. “Give yourself time⁠—give Lady Glyde time. Have you forgotten that your dogcart is waiting at the door? My tone surprises you⁠—ha? I dare say it does⁠—it is the tone of a man who can keep his temper. How many doses of good advice have I given you in my time? More than you can count. Have I ever been wrong? I defy you to quote me an instance of it. Go! take your drive. The matter of the signature can wait till tomorrow. Let it wait⁠—and renew it when you come back.”

Sir Percival hesitated and looked at his watch. His anxiety about the secret journey which he was to take that day, revived by the Count’s words, was now evidently disputing possession of his mind with his anxiety to obtain Laura’s signature. He considered for a little while, and then got up from his chair.