"I was not sure as to dates. Hush—is that Oswald? No, I'm afraid I can't come, thanks. Oswald will be here, and he has promised to take me."
"To the Academy? That's right. We'll all go together; and I shall have you to myself. How jolly!"
By no means jolly in Jean's eyes! Her hopes of a long afternoon with Oswald were dying out. Yet, what could she say? To meet Evelyn would be a delight; only nicer in private, and this Jean suggested.
"Couldn't be a more private place than the Exhibition. Everybody is lost in a crowd. So you haven't seen Evelyn yet—or her new crony?"
"Miss Moggridge?"
"Hideous specimen of womankind!"
"Evelyn wrote from Milan where they first met, and said she was plain but charming."
"'Plain' is not the word. It's bald ugliness. No eyes or nose worth mentioning; thick lips; liver-coloured complexion; tow-coloured hair. I always counted Evelyn too sensible a woman to go in for gush; but one never knows. She's infatuated now, and no mistake. Imagine setting up house with such a companion! However, Miss Moggridge won't be at the Academy to-day. Seedy, I believe; or writing a pamphlet. Just the sort of person to pour out pamphlets by the dozen . . . I say, Jean, you won't wait much longer, if Oswald does not come. Evelyn is expecting us."
Jean was spared the need of reply; for another ring sounded, and Oswald strolled in, with his old confident air. No longer a dusty and begrimed school-boy, but a well-dressed and well-drilled young officer of Her Majesty's Service, he seemed superlatively content with himself, and not unwilling to patronise less favoured mortals. As Jean had said, he was considerably bigger than Cyril, who looked very boyish by his side. Oswald's movements were large as well as his frame, taking up a good deal of room; and the superiority of air sat rather oddly upon only three-and-twenty years. Aristocratic traditions reigned in Oswald's breast, as in Jean's: but to outward appearance he was rather military than aristocratic; and the chivalrous spirit, which ought, as a matter of noblesse oblige, always to accompany such traditions, was reserved for outsiders, thereby proving its non-genuine nature. Jean at least received no benefit from it.
Though able to make himself tolerably agreeable in society, he seldom exerted himself to be agreeable to his home-circle. The joyous beaming of Jean's face had no particular response; and if Jean did not notice the omission, perhaps because she was used to it, Cyril did, and was indignant.