though in his cousin's absence he might have passed for a striking specimen of the tall, muscular, fair-bearded, clear-eyed Englishman. Just now Beaumont's clear eyes, which were small and of a pale gray color, had a rather troubled light, and, after glancing at Bessie Alden while she spoke, he rested them upon his kinsman. Mrs. Westgate meanwhile, with her superfluously pretty gaze, looked at every one alike.
"You had better wait till the time comes," she said to her sister. "Perhaps next May you won't care so much about London. Mr. Beaumont and I," she went on, smiling at her companion, "have had a tremendous discussion. We don't agree about any thing. It's perfectly delightful."
"Oh, I say, Percy!" exclaimed Lord Lambeth.
"I disagree," said Beaumont, stroking down his back hair, "even to the point of not thinking it delightful."
"Oh, I say!" cried Lord Lambeth again.
"I don't see any thing delightful in my disagreeing with Mrs. Westgate," said Percy Beaumont.
"Well, I do!" Mrs. Westgate declared; and she turned to her sister. "You know you have to go to town. The phaeton is there. You had better take Lord Lambeth."
