"You might make it one," she suggested, but not as though the subject interested her or were likely to interest him. The little rebuke had all the perfunctoriness of duty and convention.
"The funny thing is," he went on, "that old Sir James would like to get me back now; he's always hinting about it. Shall I go and sell the ribbons?"
"Why can't Mr. Robert sell the ribbons?"
"Well, in the family we don't think Bob very bright, you see."
"Oh! Alice is bright, though; at least she's very clear-headed."
"More brains than any of them. And what did you think of My lady?"
"Of My lady?" Irene Kilnorton laughed a little, raised her brows a little, and paused before she said: "Well, her hair's too fluffy, isn't it? They don't beat her, do they? She looks rather like it."
"No, they don't beat her; but she's not quite sure that she's got the grand manner."
"Isn't she?" said Lady Kilnorton, laughing again.
"And then Sir James insists on referring to Putney, especially by way of acknowledging the goodness of God in family prayers. The servants are there, of course, and—you understand?"