“I think you are a great beauty too,” said Ronald critically. “I am sure most people think so, and I have heard lots of men say so. Besides, you are much more striking-looking than she is.”
“Oh, nonsense, Ronald!”
“Joe–who is Mr. Vancouver?”
“Vancouver! Why do you ask especially?”
“It is very natural, I am sure,” said Ronald in a somewhat injured tone. “You wrote about him. He was the only person you mentioned in your letter-that is, he and a man called Harrington.”
“Mr. Vancouver–Mr. Pocock Vancouver–is a middle-aged man of various accomplishments,” said Joe, “more especially distinguished by the fact that Sybil Brandon refused to marry him some time ago. He is an enemy of Mr. Harrington’s, and they are both friends of Mrs. Wyndham’s.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Ronald, “and who is Harrington?”
“Mr. John Harrington is a very clever person who has to do with politics,” said Joe, without hesitation, but as she continued she blushed a little. “He is always being talked about because he wants to reform everything. He is a great friend of ours.”
“Oh–I thought so,” said Ronald. “What sort of a fellow is he?”
“I suppose he is five-and-thirty years old; he is neither tall nor short, and he has red hair,” said Joe.