“That is one of your products of the highest English refinement?” said Mrs. Tallboys, whom in his preoccupation he had scarcely noticed.
“How does he strike you?” said Cecil. “He is my brother-in-law, but never mind that.”
“He looks fitted for the hero of a vapid English novel. I long to force him to rough it, and to rub off that exquisite do-nothing air. It irritates me!”
“Frank Charnock has done a good deal of hard work, and is not to lead the life of an idle man,” said Captain Duncombe. “I know I should not like to be in his shoes if he succeeds—grinding away in an office ten months out of the twelve.”
“In an office! I should like to set him to work with an axe!”
“Well, those dainty-looking curled darlings don’t do badly in the backwoods,” said Lady Tyrrell.
“Ah! I understand! You stand up for him because there’s a little tendresse for your sister,” said the plain-spoken American.
“Poor fellow! I am afraid he is far gone. It is an impossible thing, though, and the sooner he can be cured of it the better,” said Lady Tyrrell. “I am sorry that walk took place yesterday.—Did he mention it at home, Cecil?”
“You are a very inconsistent woman, Lady Tyrrell,” broke in Mrs. Duncombe in her abrupt way. “Here you are come to uphold the emancipation of woman, and yet, when we come to your own sister taking one poor walk—”
“I beg your pardon, Bessie,” said Lady Tyrrell, with her most courteous manner. “I never said I was come to uphold the emancipation of woman; only to subject myself to Mrs. Tallboys’ influence—she has to make a convert of me.”