“I don’t know what has become of her, Mr. Buckland; I have broken off the acquaintance.”
“Is it indiscreet to ask on what grounds?” asked Gerard steadily.
“Well, yes, I should say it is indiscreet, decidedly. But as I know you take an interest in the girl, I’ll tell you the reason. She has formed an acquaintance with some people of whom I don’t approve—Americans.”
Gerard looked surprised. He knew that he had met several charming Americans at the house. The old lady perceived his bewilderment.
“Oh, I don’t object to these Van Santens because they’re Americans,” she explained; “but because they are a type of Americans whom I dislike, and of whom I disapprove.”
Gerard had heard the name of Van Santen and knew that these people had made some sort of stir in certain circles during the past season by novel and tasteful entertainments, which had earned them the way into a good “set.”
“I don’t know them,” he said; “but I know some people who do, and who find them very charming.”
“I’ve no doubt,” retorted the old lady icily; “but I am old-fashioned, and these Sunday bridge-parties which they give down at a place they have hired in Hertfordshire are things of which I strongly disapprove. I don’t like the thing, to start with, and I don’t like the way it is done, as far as I have heard anything of it.”
“I’m sorry to hear there has been a rupture between you and Miss Davison upon such an unimportant matter.”
“Oh, it is important in my eyes, though I daresay some people might think me too strict. But, as you must know, we have been getting on so much less well together for some time, that a comparatively small thing was able to complete the separation. We won’t refer to it further, please. I will only say this, that my quarrel, or disagreement—whatever you like to call it—with the elder sister, will not prevent my doing what I can for the younger. And I hope that Rachel’s absence from my house will not cause you to forsake it, Mr. Buckland.”