The company was occupied in placing itself at table, so that the only disengaged attention, for the moment, was Grace's, to whom, as her eyes rested on him, the young man addressed these last words with a smile. "Alas, it's a very shabby idea, isn't it? The world isn't got up regardless of expense!"
Grace looked quickly away from him, and said to her brother: "Nick, Mr. Pinks is dead."
"Mr. Pinks?" asked Gabriel Nash, appearing to wonder where he should sit.
"The member for Harsh; and Julia wants you to stand," the girl went on.
"Mr. Pinks, the member for Harsh? What names to be sure!" Gabriel mused cheerfully, still unseated.
"Julia wants me? I'm much obliged to her!" observed Nicholas Dormer. "Nash, please sit by my mother, with Peter on her other side."
"My dear, it isn't Julia," Lady Agnes remarked, earnestly, to her son. "Every one wants you. Haven't you heard from your people? Didn't you know the seat was vacant?"
Nick was looking round the table, to see what was on it. "Upon my word I don't remember. What else have you ordered, mother?"
"There's some bœuf braisé, my dear, and afterwards some galantine. Here is a dish of eggs with asparagus-tips."
"I advise you to go in for it, Nick," said Peter Sherringham, to whom the preparation in question was presented.
"Into the eggs with asparagus-tips? Donnez m'en, s'il vous plait. My dear fellow, how can I stand? how can I sit? Where's the money to come from?"
