‘Good-night,’ said the Marquis. ‘You have both done wonders. Still, I wish it was to come over again.’
‘Few people would say so,’ said Lily, as they drove off.
‘Few would say so if they thought so,’ said Claude. ‘I have been quite admiring the way Rotherwood has gone on—enjoying the fun as if he was nobody—just as Reginald might, making other people happy, and making no secret of his satisfaction in it all.’
‘Very free from affectation and nonsense,’ said Lily, ‘as William said of him last Christmas. You were in a fine fright about his speech, Claude.’
‘More than I ought to have been. I should have known that he is too simple-minded and straightforward to say anything but just what he ought. What a nice person that Miss Aylmer is.’
‘Is not she, Claude? I was very glad you had her for a neighbour. Happy the children who have her for a governess. How sensible and gentle she seems. The Westons—But oh! Claude, tell me one thing, did you hear—’
‘Well, what?’
‘I am ashamed to say. That preposterous report about papa. Why, Rotherwood himself seems to believe it, and Mr. Carrington began to congratulate—’
‘The public has bestowed so many ladies on the Baron, that I wonder it is not tired,’ said Claude. ‘It is time it should patronise William instead.’
‘Rotherwood is not the public,’ said Lily, ‘and he is the last person to say anything impertinent of papa. And I myself heard papa call her Alethea, which he never used to do. Claude, what do you think?’