“And that’s the sort of man you encourage—and have hanging around your daughters, while you raise cain about a gentleman like MacGregor!”
He stared again.
“You introduce him to me,” he said, “and I’ll soon settle his hash!”
“Don’t be rude to him, Gilbert! Remember we’ve accepted his hospitality.... You’ll put me in a very undignified position.”
“You’ve done that for yourself,” he said.
With what reluctance did she approach the unsuspecting young man, and present him to Gilbert! He got up with alacrity and held out his hand, but Gilbert ignored it. He glanced round, and saw that Claudine had gone, and that he might therefore be rude without fear of interruption. He was terribly upset; he had a dim suspicion that Claudine had set up this man in opposition to his Mr. MacGregor, that it was altogether some beastly feminine plot.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality to my family,” he said, slowly. “However—”
“However?” repeated Mr. Stephens, encouragingly, but Gilbert found it very difficult to go on. He stood with his hands behind his back, the very image of respectability and decent prosperity, lowering at “that grasshopper,” as he mentally named the other.
“However,” said Mr. Stephens. “It mustn’t happen again. Is that it?” He was, it must be confessed, rather unduly sensitive to the social disapproval of capitalists.
“Yes!” said Gilbert. “I’m very particular—in regard to the acquaintances—about the people—about people I know nothing about—where my family is concerned.”