"That state of things is often reversed later," observed Jem, feeling for once unaccountably shy, and striving after self-possession. He was not given to shyness commonly. "Cyril and I had to perform self-introductions. Jean was our connecting link."
"Then perhaps you are General Villiers' friend?"
"And he isn't a boy," cried Cyril, drowning Jem's assent.
Evelyn did not blush. She said, "No?" and looked straight at Jem with a soft laugh, which put him at his ease, but tightened the strings of fascination.
"I reached Dutton Park last night. General Villiers, is an old friend of some of my family. A delightful man."
The girl's eyes drooped. "He is—I don't know anyone like him!"
"A sort of modern preux-chevalier style."
"And always so gentle."
Jem wondered whether any human being could be otherwise than gentle to Evelyn. He knew little of Miss Devereux.
Evelyn made a move as if to go. "Come, Cyril—" she said; "we will walk round by the bridge. I suppose you have had enough of the stepping-stones for one day."