"The Heathers are coming," he said, "and Lady Val and Marjory, and young Haselden, and Ruston."
"Toujours Ruston," murmured Adela.
"And one or two more. What's wrong with Ruston? There is, my dear Adela, no attitude more offensive than that of indifference to what the common herd finds interesting."
"He's a fright," said Adela. "You'd spike yourself on that bristly beard of his."
"If you happened to be near enough, you mean?—a danger my sex and our national habits render remote. Bessie!"
Lady Semingham came towards them, with one last craning look at her own back as she turned. She always left the neighbourhood of a mirror with regret.
"Well?" she asked with a patient little sigh.
"Adela is abusing your friend Ruston."
"He's not my friend, Alfred. What's the matter, Adela?"
"I don't think I like him. He's hard."