He laughed, his blue eyes narrowing. "Thanks, no. And the others?"
"Oh, I don't know. The list is there at your elbow. You are dull to-day, Gerald."
"I know I am. I think I'm in for an attack of flue, or something; feel shivery and all-overish. And I think you might be able to understand my hating to have your daughter make such a horrible mésalliance, Tony."
She was touched with the pathetic facility for being touched common to fading beauties. Rising, she laid her pretty hand on his shoulder. "Poor darling, I am sorry I was cross. It is dear of you to mind. I hated it, too, at first, for poor old Ponty is a gentleman, and he is awfully cut up. But after all, it may not be a bad thing. She's a very queer girl, Gerald, not at all easy to live with, and this boy Joyselle is really nice. Besides, he has plenty of money——"
"By the way," interrupted Carron, tossing the kitten to a soft chair, "where did he get the money? The fiddling chap can't have much. They say he's a great spendthrift——"
"No, it isn't that. I mean Isabel Clough-Hardy left it to him. You remember the moley one who died in Egypt?"
"Did she? He must have been a mere child when she died. You mean Hugh Hislip's daughter?"
"Yes. Oh, yes, it was years ago. They say she was in love with Victor Joyselle before she married."
"By Jove! Why didn't he marry her?"
"Because in this unenlightened land no man is allowed to have more than one wife at a time—Oh, Tommy, what have you been doing?"