‘Oh no’—shaking his handsome head. And then frankly, ‘We are too poor for that.’
‘Ah! your sister ought to come,’ says she, after which she grows thoughtful.
Crosby glances quickly at her. He has heard that last remark of hers, and somehow resents it. Susan—in London!
He had taken his cup of tea from Miss Barry a little while ago, and carried it to where Susan is sitting, throwing himself on the grass at her feet, his cup beside him. Lady Muriel’s words grate on him. He looks up now at the pure profile beside him, and wonders what would be the result of starting Susan as a debutante in town under good auspices. What?
‘You are thinking,’ says Susan softly, breaking into his reverie gently.
‘Yes, I was thinking.’ He looks up at her. ‘If I said of you, would you believe me?’
‘Not a bit’—gaily. ‘Anyone would say that.’
‘Would they?’ His regard grows even more pronounced. How many have said that to her? How, indeed, could anyone refrain from saying it? And—he draws his breath a little quickly here, as conviction forces itself on him—and everyone with truth! ‘Susan, this is disgraceful!’ says he carelessly. ‘You must have had a long list of flirtations to speak like that.’
Susan laughs merrily. She is in high spirits. All is going so well, and even Lady Millbank has praised the tea-cakes—Lady Millbank, who never praises anything! But to-day Lady Millbank has changed her tune. Perhaps no one had been so astonished as she, to see all the Park people here to-day in this quiet old garden. She had been asked to meet them, of course, being a friend and distant relation of the Rector’s; but she had dreamed of seeing only Lady Forster, for half an hour or so, as a concession to her brother’s parish priest, and now—now—here they all are! All these smart people, who had refused to go to her only the day before yesterday! Now, horrid snob that she is, she goes quite out of her way to be nice to the Barrys.
‘A disgraceful list, indeed!’ says Susan, laughing down into Crosby’s eyes. Oh, what pretty eyes hers are!