"I dare say it is," he said. "Speaking for myself, I can honestly say that I never do anything unless I am compelled."
Nell laughed, her short, soft laugh; but Mrs. Lorton was not at all discomfited.
"That is all very well for a man, though I am sure you do yourself an injustice, Mr. Vernon; but for a young girl! I think you will find something interesting on the third page, under the heading of 'Doings of the Elite,' Eleanor."
Nell took the paper—the journal she especially detested, and Dick never failed to mock at—and glanced at Mr. Vernon; but he looked straight before him, down at the jetty below; and, not shyly, but, with a kind of resignation, she began:
"'Lord and Lady Bullnoze have gone on a visit to the Countess of Crowntires. Her ladyship is staying at the family seat, Cromerspokes, which is famous for its old oak and stained glass. It is not generally known that Lady Crowntires inherited this princely estate from her aunt, the Duchess of Bogshire.'"
"A most beautiful place," commented Mrs. Lorton. "I've seen a photograph of it—a private photograph."
Nell looked appealingly and despairingly at Mr. Vernon, but his face was perfectly impassive; and, smothering a sigh, she went on:
"'Lord Pygskin will hunt the Clodford hounds next season. His lordship has been staying at Blenheim for some weeks, recovering from an attack of the gout. It is said that his engagement with the charming and popular Miss Bung has been broken off.'"
"Dear me! How sad!" murmured Mrs. Lorton. "I am always so sorry to hear of these broken engagements of the aristocracy. Miss Bung—I think it said last week—is the daughter of the great brewer. Poor girl! it will be a blow for her!"
Not a smile crossed the impassive face; Nell thought that perhaps he was not listening, but she went on mechanically: