He grew confused, and stopped. He knew very little about Court Presentations, but was conscious that in the circumstances it would be madness to think of this one.
“But she’s an artist, and not engaged in trade herself, unless you call selling her designs trade,” said the girl rather distantly.
“Oh yes, yes, of course I know that. But—but the Chamberlain’s distinctions are not at all logical. The wives of small professional men and stockbrokers are eligible; and a lot of Americans get in who would never get presented if they were in a similar position in England to that which they hold in their own country; while no actress is eligible, however great her genius or however noble her character, and even women of rank lose their rights if they engage in trade. Altogether, there’s nothing to be gained by presentation now that the middle classes go to Court en masse, and if I were you I would very strongly urge your sister not to persist in her plan for you.”
They were talking so earnestly, the girl impressed by his tones, and he excited by his fears for the result of the rash act suggested, that neither heard footsteps outside the door, and both were surprised when it opened, and Lady Jennings came in.
She was in her outdoor dress, having just come in, and was looking cross and worried. She greeted the girl kindly, but without losing her look of annoyance, and turned abruptly to Gerard.
“Ah, Mr. Buckland, how do you do?” she said, holding out her hand to him. “I hope you’ve come to tell me what has become of Rachel. She made an appointment with me at my club at seven, and has never turned up. She is getting frightfully unpunctual and tiresome.”
Lilian uttered a little cry of dismay, and Gerard glanced quickly towards her to remind his hostess of the young girl’s presence.
Lady Jennings uttered an impatient sigh.
“Can you tell me anything about her?” she asked imperiously. “I’m told you brought back her cloak.”
“Yes, I met her and took her to have some tea. She had done a long afternoon’s shopping and was tired.”