And things are seemly and unseemly, fitting and
unfitting--as well as good and bad. This inexperienced girl, with her
prettiness, and her art, and her small world--was it fair to her? Is
there not something in the unconscious training of birth and position,
when, _bon gre, mal gre_, there is a big part in the world's social
business to be played?
And meanwhile, with a fraction of her mind, she went on talking
"Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff." She did the honours of half their
possessions. Then it suddenly seemed to her that the time was long, and
she led the way back once more to the drawing-room, in a rather
formidable silence, of which even her cheerful companion became aware.
But as they entered the room, the door at the farther end opened again,
and Tatham and Lydia emerged.
Good heavens!--had he been proposing already? But a glance dispelled
the notion. Lydia was laughing as they came in, and a little flushed,
as though with argument. It seemed to his mother that Harry's look, on
the other hand, was overcast. Had the girl been trampling on him?
Impossible! In any case, there was no denying the quiet ease, the
complete self-possession, with which the "inexperienced" one moved
through Harry's domain, and took leave of Harry's mother. Your modern
girl?--of the intellectual sort--quite unmoved by gewgaws! Minx!
Harry saw the two ladies into their pony-carriage. When he returned to
his mother, it was with an absent brow. He went to the window and stood
softly whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
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