My office, Downing Street, Friday.

Expect you." It was signed "Faramond." At the same time came letters: from his grandfather, from Captain Maudsley.

The first was stern, imperious, reproachful .-- Shame for those that took him in and made him, a ruined reputation, a spoiled tradition: he had been but a heathen after all! There was only left to bid him farewell, and to enclose a cheque for two thousand pounds.
Captain Maudsley called him a fool, and asked him what he meant to do--hoped he would give up the woman at once, and come back.

He owed something to his position as Master of the Hounds--a tradition that oughtn't to be messed about.
There it all was: not a word about radical morality or immorality; but the tradition of Family, the Commons, Master of the Hounds! But there was another letter.

He did not recognise the handwriting, and the envelope had a black edge.