‘A pity,’ said the Lancer, when he had heard who she was, and under his moustache he murmured to Albinia, ‘She is rather in Emily’s style.’
‘Oh, Fred,’ thought Albinia, ‘after all, it may be lucky that you aren’t going to stay here!’
When Albinia was alone with her brother, she could not help saying, ‘Maurice, you were right to scold me; I reproached you with thinking life made up of predicaments. I think mine is made of blunders!’
‘Ah! I saw you were harassed to-day,’ said her brother kindly.
‘Whenever one is happy, one does something wrong!’
‘I guess—’
‘You are generous not to say you warned me months ago. Mind, it is no fault of hers, she is behaving beautifully; but oh! the absurdity, and the worst of it is, I have promised not to tell Edmund.’
‘Then don’t tell me. You have a judgment quite good enough for use.’
‘No, I have not. I have only sense, and that only serves me for what other people ought to do.’
‘Then ask Albinia what Mrs. Kendal ought to do.’