"The plot thickens," laughed Roland.
"But Roland Douglas," said Lady Esmondet, "he should be there; he belongs, in some sort of way, to the wife of the Lord of the Manor, in a 'do-as-I-bid-you' kind of way; in their relations towards each other, one sees the advertisement for a person to 'make himself generally useful,' clearly defined; fashionable women of to-day affect such relations with men, and I suppose it is all right, as fashion has made it orthodox.'"
"We find it a too pleasant fashion to object to it," answered Bertram; "still rumour has it that Mrs. Haughton has been a great flirt, and if I were in Haughton's shoes, I should turn the cold shoulder to this Everly, or any other man; should they stay much at the Hall, time may, with the ponderous hospitalities of the county, hang heavy to one who has lived at New York pace, and just for pastime, she may flirt."
"I should think no woman married to Col. Haughton could, or would, think to kill time with any other man," said Vaura, warmly, a slight curl on her perfect lips.
"Bravo, Vaura," said her godmother; "a woman is of very slight value if, when she marry a man worth going to the altar with, she, after a few moons wane, looks about like Moore's 'Lesbia,' for some one to keep ennui at bay."
"Hear, hear," said Bertram; "but to-day we have so many marriages of convenience that the society of some affinity is sought for distraction's sake."
"It's awfully nice to have an affinity for some one else's wife; but, by Jove," said Douglas, "if I were married, and caught a fellow hanging about my wife, I'd just want to handle one of Vulcan's heaviest, and tap him on the head."
"Spoken like a Briton on his preserves," laughed Vaura.
"How these fellows without an income manage to keep to the front is more than I can tell," said Douglas; "now, this Everly, though he doesn't exactly wax fat and shine, he isn't one of the lean kine either."
"I bet my life," said Bertram, "he is angling in his aunt's flower garden for a gold-fish."