St. Quentin was frowning heavily. “You might leave me quiet a bit,” he said. “I’m not in the best of humours, to-night.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Sir Algernon, rising and flinging his cigarette away; “it’s quite unnecessary, I assure you.” And he went to Lady Frederica in the drawing-room.
“Would you go to his lordship in the library, please, ma’am, if quite convenient,” a footman said, a little later, coming to the school-room, where Sydney and Miss Osric, undeterred by the approach of dinner, were thoroughly enjoying a very late tea.
Sydney put down her cup and got up at once.
“Are you quite rested now, dear?” asked Miss Osric. “You looked tired when you came in, and I am sure, if you are tired still, Lord St. Quentin would excuse you.”
“I don’t think I’m tired,” Sydney said, and went down the wide stairs and across the hall to the library.
St. Quentin was alone, but she knew Sir Algernon had been there by the smell of smoke. Her cousin’s eyebrows were drawn close together, and there was a look upon his face which was new to her. He seemed to have forgotten to smile at her entrance to-day.
“Come here, Sydney,” he said sharply. “I have something to say to you. I hear you met that young Chichester this afternoon.” His contemptuous tone made the colour flame into her face.
“Yes, I did,” she said a little bit defiantly; “of course I was going to tell you about it.”
“Were you?” said St. Quentin. “Now, Sydney, we had better understand each other. The Chichesters brought you up, and of course you owe a debt of gratitude to them in consequence. I have no objection whatsoever to your paying it—in any reasonable way. I spoke to Braemuir on the subject when he was staying here, and he promised me to use his influence towards getting some of those boys a start in life. I don’t suppose you know that, though the estate is by no means as unencumbered as I could wish, I offered to refund your doctor what he spent on you in your childhood, and——”