"We are a force to be reckoned with now," said Nancy, "and it's no use trying to keep family secrets from us, sending us out of the room, and all that. It's too transparent, and makes us talk all the more."
There was a pause in the morning-room when the three sisters had left. Humphrey's quick brain was adjusting many things. He knew Dick admired Virginia Dubec, although it had not hitherto occurred to him that that admiration betokened anything serious. He suspected also, that since somebody must have suggested to the lady that she should spend a season hunting in Meadshire instead of in Leicestershire, that somebody was probably Dick. But if his brother had not seen fit to disclose that fact at Kencote, not even the fact of his acquaintanceship with Lady George Dubec, it was not for him to do so. Therefore, when his father asked him whether Dick knew that she had come to Blaythorn, and why she had come, he said, "I don't know in the least. He'll tell you if you ask him."
The Squire bent his brows on him. "You said he knew her very well."
"I didn't say he knew her very well. I said he knew her better than I did. Lots of people know her. She goes about everywhere in London."
"She was an actress, you say?"
"Well, that's what I've heard. It may not be true."
"It is true," said Mrs. Graham. "Virginia Vanreden. I remember quite well now. I saw her when I was in New York with my husband ten years ago. And a lovely creature she was. I shall go and call on her at once."
The Squire frowned again. "What sort of an actress was she?" he asked. "Was she a chorus girl?"
"It was a play called The Flower of Florida," replied Mrs. Graham, "a very silly play with catchy music, only it didn't catch me, because I hate music, and I was bored to tears. No, she wasn't a chorus girl, and she wasn't the Flower of Florida either—I remember the Flower, an exuberant lady with gold teeth, who seemed to be very popular, but I should have said she was past her job. This girl danced—oh, I remember her very well; she was the best of the bunch, and the Flower grinned at her with her teeth and scowled at her with her eyes while she was performing. When we got back to New York on our way home she had caught on, and all the richly gilded youth was crowding to see her. The Flower had departed, mad with jealousy."
"A dancing girl!" said the Squire. "Of course! Just the sort that George Dubec would have married. Well, you may call on her if you like, Mrs. Graham, but——"