"Why should you be glad?" she said, looking at him curiously.
"Oh, never mind," said Lord Fitz, rather embarrassed. "So her father was a merchant. All those merchant fellows get rich. Look at Leicester's father, he's as rich as Crœsus. I wish my governor was a merchant."
"He would be very much obliged to you for the compliment," said Lady Ethel, with a smile. "For my part I am satisfied with an earldom."
"Oh!" said Lord Fitz, and as he drew a long sigh he murmured inaudibly: "So should I if it had a lot of money with it."
"That's a rum fellow, that captain," said Lord Fitz, after a pause.
"In what way?" asked Ethel. "He seemed very ordinary, very amusing, too."
"Oh, yes, he's amusing enough," assented Lord Fitz. "But I'm half inclined to think he's deuced sharp. He can play whist like a book, and picked up the coin like old Hawksey at the club. But I say, Eth, you're pretty sharp, sharper than I am, and did you notice the rum look of the captain's eyes? They seemed to be watching everybody and everything, and when he caught you looking at him they shifted down the table, and he was sure to make one of those funny speeches of his, as if he didn't want you to think he'd noticed you looking at him. And every time he lifted his wineglass he looked over the top all down the table."
"No, I didn't notice all that," replied Ethel. "You are getting quite a student of human nature and manners, Fitz."
"Oh," said Fitz, nodding his curly head decisively. "You were too much taken up with Mr. Bert. I saw you, Miss Sly Boots, laughing and whispering."
"For shame, Fitz!" retorted Ethel, blushing in the darkness. "Whispering to a stranger?"