“Naturally not,” said Evelyn.
“But, as I was about to say, a foreigner with a genuine title, the head of a house of gentle people, is received with open arms. Lord Frothingham would be overwhelmed with hospitalities. My friends would see to that.”
After a few minutes, without any impoliteness on Evelyn’s part, Sidney began to feel that it was time for him to go. As he disappeared Gwen and Arthur came strolling back.
“What a noisome creature Sidney is!” said Evelyn. “But he’ll be of use to you, Arthur.”
“Did he talk about the old families of America and the gentle birth?” asked Gwen. Her eyes were curiously bright, and her manner and tone were agitated.
“All that again.”
“He’s an ass—a regular tomtit,” growled Frothingham.
“I should think he’d learn,” said Evelyn, “that we don’t take him and his countrymen up because they’re well born—we know they aren’t.”
“If those that are sensible enough to fly from that beastly country are like Sidney,” said Gwen, “what a rowdy lot there must be at home.” She spoke so nervously that Evelyn, abstracted though she was, glanced at her and noticed how pale and peaked she was. When she had ridden away Evelyn looked at her brother severely—she was only three and twenty, but she managed him, taking the place of both their parents, who were long dead.
“You’ve been making love to Gwen,” she exclaimed reproachfully. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”