“What time was it?” asked the deliberate Ethel.
“I don’t know—about half-past nine.”
There was a pause.
“I think it’s wrong,” said Ethel, lifting her head with impatience. “You don’t know him.”
She spoke with some contempt.
“Yes, I do. He is half a Pole, and a Baron too. In England he is equivalent to a Lord. My grandmother was his father’s friend.”
But the two friends were hostile. It was as if Ursula wanted to divide herself from her acquaintances, in asserting her connection with Anton, as she now called him.
He came a good deal to Cossethay, because her mother was fond of him. Anna Brangwen became something of a grande dame with Skrebensky, very calm, taking things for granted.
“Aren’t the children in bed?” cried Ursula petulantly, as she came in with the young man.
“They will be in bed in half an hour,” said the mother.