The young man nodded.
Then, turning towards his lordship, she added—“My dear Lord Ethalwood, allow me to introduce you to one of my neighbours, Gerome Chanet. You are both young, both sportsmen, both good-hearted and intelligent, and I hope and trust you will become excellent friends.”
Lord Ethalwood bowed stiffly, and turned on his heel.
“My dear Ethelwood,” exclaimed the hostess, “do pray shake hands with my young protégé. You English are so singularly cold and unimpressionable.”
“Are we?” returned his lordship. “Well, it is constitutional with us, I suppose,” he added, with a sickly smile.
Gerome Chanet held out his hand and Lord Ethalwood took it; but there was an evident reluctance on both their parts. Each of the young men divined that in the other he had a rival, or it might be an enemy.
“You intend to spend the whole day with us—do you not, Gerome?” said Madame, assuming an air of cheerfulness.
“Ahem! I hardly know,” he returned. “You have a visitor.”
“What of that? You ought to be proud to make the acquaintance of so distinguished a gentleman.”
“Ahem! Yes, of course.”