Sir Patrick looked at his niece, and found himself in the company of a model young English Miss--and marveled inwardly what it might mean.
The talk, interrupted for the moment (topics, Politics and Sport--and then, when a change was wanted, Sport and Politics), was resumed again all round the table.

Under cover of the conversation, and in the intervals of receiving the attentions of the gentlemen, Blanche whispered to Sir Patrick, "Don't start, uncle.

Anne is in the library." (Polite Mr.Smith offered some ham.

Gratefully declined.) "Pray, pray, pray go to her; she is waiting to see you--she is in dreadful trouble." (Gallant Mr.Jones proposed fruit tart and cream.

Accepted with thanks.) "Take her to the summer-house: I'll follow you when I get the chance.
And manage it at once, uncle, if you love me, or you will be too late." Before Sir Patrick could whisper back a word in reply, Lady Lundie, cutting a cake of the richest Scottish composition, at the other end of the table, publicly proclaimed it to be her "own cake," and, as such, offered her brother-in-law a slice.