“I dare say I watched him a good deal at first,” she said to her daughter. “But I have made up my mind about him. He’s a very good sort of young fellow, and I’m glad that you have a companion. You see I can’t walk much, and now that you are getting better you need exercise. After all, one can always trust the best of one’s own people. He’s not falling in love with you, is he, dear? I sometimes fancy that he looks at you as though he were.”
“Nonsense, mother!” and Clare laughed intentionally. “But he’s very good company.”
“It would be very unfortunate if he did,” said Mrs. Bowring, looking away, and speaking almost to herself. “I am not sure that we should not have gone away—”
“Really! If one is to be turned out of the most beautiful place in the world because a young Englishman chooses to stop in the same hotel! Besides, why in the world should he fall in love with me? He’s used to a very different kind of people, I fancy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh—the gay set—‘a’ gay set, I suppose, for there are probably more than one of them. They are quite different from us, you know.”
“That is no reason. On the contrary—men like variety and change—change, yes,” repeated Mrs. Bowring, with an odd emphasis. “At all events, child, don’t take a fancy to him!” she added. “Not that I’m much afraid of that. You are anything but ‘susceptible,’ my dear!” she laughed faintly.
“You need not be in the least afraid,” answered Clare. “But, after all, mother—just supposing the case—I can’t see why it should be such an awful calamity if we took a fancy to each other. We belong to the same class of people, if not to the same set. He has enough money, and I’m not absolutely penniless, though we are as poor as church mice—”
“For Heaven’s sake, don’t suggest such a thing!” cried Mrs. Bowring.
Her face was white, and her lips trembled. There was a frightened look in her pale eyes, and she turned her face quickly to her daughter, and quickly away again.