"Really Evelyn—"
"And I shall be eighteen in a week."
"Really, Evelyn, if you persist in this sort of thing, I shall have—I shall be compelled to appeal to General Villiers."
Evelyn laughed, but it was easy to see that the threat told.
"Ask General Villiers whether I may walk in the company of a big boy and two children, for fifteen or twenty minutes!"
"Your flippant tone only makes me feel—"
"General Villiers told me yesterday all about young Mr. Trevelyan," said Evelyn. She was not rudely interrupting her aunt. Sybella's sentences were apt to die away unfinished, as ideas or language failed. "He must be a nice lad."
"Mr. Trevelyan may—That has nothing to do with your conduct! Your conscience must convince you how wrongly you are behaving! I shall certainly have to appeal to General Villiers," quavered Sybella.
"General Villiers!" announced Pearce.
With more than usual gravity, the General entered. No doubt he had heard the words last spoken, for Miss Devereux's voice always grew shrill under excitement. She greeted him with a disturbed air, while Evelyn stood in the centre of the room, carrying her head like a young princess.