“Then Gerald can have the spare room. It’s all wainscot and painted dark blue. It’s a shrimp of a room, but there’s a preserved albatross in a glass case as big as a van.”
“I make no doubt about that,” chimed in her father, straightening himself and scratching his chin uneasily, “you must talk to Lizzie.”
“Splendid!” said Gerald to Orianda, “I’ve never seen an albatross.”
“We’ll ask Lizzie,” said she, “at once.”
Loughlin was experiencing not a little inward distress at this turn in the affair, but it was he who had brought Orianda to her home, and he would have to go through with the horrid business.
“Is she difficult, father?”
“No, she’s not difficult, not difficult, so to say, you must make allowance.”
The girl was implacable. Her directness almost froze the blood of the Hon. Loughlin.
“Are you fond of her. How long has she been here?”
“O, a goodish while, yes, let me see—no, she’s not difficult, if that’s what you mean—three years, perhaps.”