"It will be a splendid ball," prattled Chris sipping his tea and devouring very crumbly cake, "the Glorious Golfers are going to spend a lot of money in decorating the rooms. I met Mr. Ainsleigh. He is going--a rare thing for him. He goes nowhere as a rule."
Miss Wharf glanced sharply at her niece, but beyond a faint flush, she could detect no sign of emotion. "People who are as poor as young Ainsleigh, can't afford to go out," she said deliberately. "I think the wisest thing that young man could do, would be to marry a rich girl," and she again looked at Olivia.
"He is certainly very handsome," said Lady Jabe pensively, "very much like his mother. She was a fine-looking woman, one of the Vanes of Heathersham."
"I remember her," said Miss Wharf, her colour rising, "and I never thought she was good-looking myself."
"Not to compare to you dear," said the sycophant.
But this time Miss Pewsey made a mistake. The remark did not seem to please Miss Wharf. "I don't care for comparisons," she said sharply, "its bad taste to make them. I like Mr. Ainsleigh, but I don't approve of his idling."
"He has never been brought up to do anything," said Lady Jabe.
"Then he ought to turn his hands to making money in some way. That place is mortgaged and at any time may be sold. Then he won't have a roof over his head."
"I have never met Ainsleigh," said Burgh musingly, "I guess I'd like to have a jaw along o' him. Wasn't his father murdered in China?"
Miss Wharf became suddenly pale. "It is said that he was, but I don't believe it."