"Much too much! She and her mother are continually in the club, ostensibly to read the papers; the girl plays tennis and badminton—she also plays the fool."
"You don't like her, Brian?"
"Well, no, I know a few things about Miss Dominga Chandos."
"Oh, tell me?" said his aunt, eagerly.
"Her people ought to look after her."
"And is that all I am to hear?"
"Isn't it enough? Think of all the events, situations, and mysteries, your imagination can weave out of that little sentence. To me she is always the Cat—the Red Cat; she has a disagreeable way of winding herself about, and purring."
"Singing, you mean?"
"I don't admire her caterwauling; her voice is detestable. I always seem to hear the native note dominating her song, the Nautch girl note."
"And so you say that Dominga reminds you of a red cat? Take care she does not scratch you some day."