'I only hope this isn't a great liberty.'
'If you fired off a cannon under Mrs. Harewood's nose, she would not call it a liberty.'
'So it appears. But Mr. Harewood does not look—like that.'
'Oh, he's well broken in. He is the pink of orderliness in his own study and the library, but as long as no one meddles there, he minds nothing. It just keeps him alive; but I believe the Shapcotes think this house a mild lunatic asylum.'
'Who are the Shapcotes?'
'He's registrar. They live in the other half of this place—the old infirmary, Mr. Harewood calls it. Such a contrast! He is a tremendous old Turk in his house, and she is a little mincing woman; and they've made Gus—he's one of us, you know—a horrid sneak, and think it's all my bad company and Bill's. By-the-by, Cherry, Gus Shapcote asked me if my senior wasn't spoony about—'
'I hope you told him to mind his own business!' cried Geraldine, with a great start of indignation.
'I told him he was a sheep,' said Lance. 'But, I say, Cherry, I want to know what you think of it.'
'Think? I'm not so ready to think nonsense!'
'Well, when the old giant was getting some tea for her, I saw two ladies look at one another and wink.'