"My dear, how can I say whom she will marry? I am no oracle. But I am sure that nothing would better please Stephen Lorraine. And in many respects it would be a good thing for Aldyth."
"Yes, of course," said Kitty, in a comfortable, matter-of-fact tone, "she would be the mistress of Wyndham; she would have plenty of money, and could keep as many horses as she liked; but still I cannot fancy that Aldyth would care to marry Guy."
Kitty quitted the room as she spoke. Hilda bent over her book, apparently absorbed in its pages, but it was long ere the unwonted colour in her cheeks faded.
Needless to say, Kitty's encounter with Clara Dawtrey did not tend to soften the feelings with which that young lady regarded the Blands and their friend.
A few days later, Clara, who occasionally called on Mrs. Greenwood, although the banker's wife did not admit her into the inner circle of her friends, entered that lady's drawing room to find John Glynne there talking to her. Clara was delighted to meet him thus; and immediately began to display all the coquettish airs and graces by which she believed that she rendered herself charming to gentlemen.
Mr. Glynne would have retired after a few minutes, but as he rose, the servant appeared, carrying the tea-tray, and Mrs. Greenwood would not hear of his going before he had taken a cup of tea. Just then other visitors were announced, who engaged Mrs. Greenwood's attention, and Glynne found himself drawn into a talk with Miss Dawtrey. They were seated within the bow-window which commanded the High Street.
Clara, talking rapidly, looked up at her companion with what she believed to be an arch glance, when she perceived that he was paying little attention to what she said. His eyes did not meet hers; they were looking beyond her, down into the street. Clara turned quickly to see what was interesting him there. Her chagrin did not lessen when she saw that Aldyth Lorraine was riding past, accompanied by her cousin. The girl-rider looked trim and graceful in her dark blue habit and little felt hat with white plume.
"Aldyth Lorraine looks well on horseback," remarked Clara, studying Mr. Glynne's countenance with an intentness of which he became uncomfortably aware. "Some people call her pretty. Do you think she is pretty?"
"Really, Miss Dawtrey, that is hardly a fair question," he replied, laughingly. "Is not a gentleman bound to admire every young lady he meets?"
"Oh, that's rubbish," she said. "You can't admire ugly girls. Now, I call Guy Lorraine a very handsome fellow; you don't think so, of course; you men are so jealous of each other; but he is. He ought to have a pretty wife. Of course you know—" She paused, and looked at him significantly.