“Who is that, taking my name in vain?” interrupted a languid voice at the open door, as Captain Pullen advanced into the room.
Margaret Pullen started and grew very red at being detected in discussing her brother-in-law’s actions, but Anthony Pennell, who was always ruffled by his cousin’s affected walk and drawl, blurted the truth right out.
“I was,” he replied, hardly touching the hand which Captain Pullen extended to him, “I was just telling Mrs. Pullen of the high estimation in which your name is held at the Red House!”
It was now Ralph’s turn to grow red. His fair face flushed from chin to brow, as he repeated,
“The Red House! what Red House?”
“Did they not mention the name to you? I mean the residence of Madame Gobelli. I was dining there yesterday.”
“Dining there, were you? By Jove! I didn’t know you were acquainted with the woman. Isn’t she a queer old party? Baroness Boots, eh? Fancy your knowing them! I thought you were a cut above that, Anthony!”
“If the Gobellis were good enough for you to be intimate with in Heyst, I suppose they are good enough for me to dine with in London, Ralph! I did not know until last evening, however, that you had left them to pay for your rooms in Brussels, or I would have taken the money over with me to defray the debt.”
Ralph had seated himself by this time, but he looked very uneasy and as if he wished he had not come.
“Did the old girl engage rooms for me?” he stammered. “Well! you know the reason I could not go to Brussels, but of course if I had known that she had gone to any expense for me, I would have repaid her. Did she tell you of it herself?” he added, rather anxiously.