"She loves him," said Angela scarcely above her breath.
"I suppose so," he answered, dryly. Then, after a pause—"Love is a mighty queer matter, it seems to me. Here have I been trying to win her heart for the last five years, and, just when I think I am succeeding, in steps a fellow whom she has never seen before, who does in a month or two what I failed to do in years."
"They have a great deal to thank you for," said Angela.
Percival shook his head.
"That's a mere delusion of their generous hearts," he said. "I've been a selfish brute: that's all."
It seemed easier to him, after this, to discuss the matter with Angela from every possible point of view. He told her more than he had told anyone in the world of the secret workings of his mind; she alone had any true idea of what it had cost him to give Elizabeth up. He took a great deal of pleasure in dissecting his own character, and it soothed and flattered him that she should listen with so much interest. He was always in a better temper when he had been talking to Angela. He did most of the talking—it must be owned that he liked to hear himself talk—and she made a perfect listener. He, in turn, amused and interested her very much. She had never come across a man of his type before. His trenchant criticisms of literature, his keen delight in politics, his lively argumentativeness, were charming to her. He had always had the knack of quarrelling with Elizabeth, even when he was most devoted to her; but he did not quarrel with Angela. She quieted him; he hardly knew how to be irritable in her presence.
The story of Kitty's marriage excited his deepest ire. He was indignant with his sister, disgusted with Hugo Luttrell. He himself told it, with some rather strong expressions of anger, to Brian, who listened in perfect silence.
"What can you say for your cousin?" said Percival, turning upon him fiercely. "What sort of a fellow is he? Do you consider him fit to marry my sister?"
"No, I don't," Brian answered. "I am sorry to say so, but I don't think Hugo is in the least to be relied on. I have been fond of him, but——"
"A screw loose somewhere, is there? I thought as much."