“Clio would tell you she could take care of herself at the stables as well as anywhere else.”
“Query?” said Lady Tyrrell. “Don’t get into a scrape, Bessie. Does your Captain report on the flirtation with young Simmonds?”
“Who is he?” asked Cecil
“The trainer’s son,” said Bessie. “It is only a bit of imitation of Aurora Floyd.”
“You know she’s an heiress,” said Lady Tyrrell. “You had better take care how you put such a temptation in his way.”
“I don’t suppose the Moys are anybody,” said Cecil.
“Not in your sense, my dear,” said Lady Tyrrell, laughing; “but from another level there’s a wide gap between the heiress of Proudfoot Lawn and the heir of the training stables.”
“Cecil looks simply disgusted,” said Bessie. “She can’t bear the Moys betwixt the wind and her nobility.”
“They are the great drawback to Swansea, I confess,” said Cecil.
“Oh! are you thinking of Swanslea?” cried Mrs Duncombe.