“If one may say so without irreverence,” she said, “how God must laugh at our divisions of classes. We must look like children arranging books by the colour of their covers instead of by their contents. We class all sorts of noble and ignoble people together and call them gentlemen, neglecting the only true classification altogether.”
It was evident now to Dora that her mother had got an excellent start, and she could see what she had started for. There was no need for reply, and Lady Austell having favoured a passing friend with a smile that was positively wintry in its sadness, proceeded.
“Such a good instance of what I am saying occurred to-day, dear,” she said. “Mr. Osborne called on me at six, as I think I told you he was going to do, and for the first time perhaps I fully saw what true delicacy and feeling he has, and how immensely these outweigh any of those things which we hastily might call faults of manner or breeding. It is the same with her, kind excellent woman that she is. What a priceless thing to inherit all that kindness and sweetness of nature.”
Lady Austell was flying along now; the race, so to speak, was clearly a sprint. Dora merely waited for her to breast the tape. She proceeded to do so.
“He came on a subject that very closely concerns you, dear,” she said, “and like a true gentleman he asked my permission before allowing any step to be taken. Can you guess, dear?”
Dora, as has been said, stood considerably in awe of her mother, but occasionally a discourse of this kind, which she felt to be entirely insincere, roused in her an impulse of the liveliest impatience, which gave sharpness to her tongue.
“Oh, dear, yes,” she said. “The truly delicate Mr. Osborne asked if Mr. Claude might pay his addresses to me. I expect he used just those words. I hope you allowed him to, mother.”
Lady Austell’s manner was always admirable. She appeared not to notice the sharpness of the speech at all. She laid her neatly gloved hand on Dora’s.
She looked at her with her sad blue eyes, eyes that always looked tender and patient, even when she was disputing a fare with a cabman. “I am sure you will be very happy dear,” she said after a pause. “He is the most excellent young man, everyone speaks well of him. And, my dear, how good-looking. A perfect—I forget the name.”