“The agent’s son?” she remarked. “I shouldn’t have thought that he would have cared about our points.”
“He can afford it for once in a way, I should imagine,” Deyes answered. “I can’t understand, though——”
He stopped short. She looked at him curiously.
“Is it possible,” she murmured, “that there exists anything which Gilbert Deyes does not understand?”
“Many things,” he answered; “amongst them, why does Wilhelmina patronize this young man? He is well enough, of course, but——” he shrugged his shoulders expressively; “the thing needs an explanation, doesn’t it?”
“If Wilhelmina—were not Wilhelmina, it certainly would,” Lady Peggy answered. “I call her craving for new things and new people positively morbid. All the time she beats her wings against the bars. There are no new things. There are no new experiences. The sooner one makes up one’s mind to it the better.”
Gilbert Deyes laughed softly.
“If my memory serves me,” he said, “you are repeating a cry many thousand years old. Wasn’t there a prophet——”
“There was,” she interrupted, “but they are beckoning us. I hope I don’t cut with the young man. I don’t believe he has a bridge face.”