“Do you bet on horses, or what? The money must go somewhere.”
Again there was that same furtive look, but again she treated the question with hilarious contempt.
“Of course I don’t do any of those things. However, if you won’t trust me with a little money, I suppose I must submit. Never mind me and my poor little wants now. Let us have a chat about you and your pleasures. What have you been buying while I’ve been away? Some nice pictures? Some queer old china figures? Some real bargains in Chippendale chairs at twenty-five guineas a-piece? Come, let’s take a walk through the gallery, and you shall show me the very latest arrivals.”
Whether he believed in her interest or not, or whether he was glad that her importunities had ceased, Sir Robert was quite ready to show off his latest acquisition.
“I’ve got some lovely old French tapestries,” he said, “that even you will admire, little Vandal that you are.” He felt in his pockets and then exclaimed: “Oh, I haven’t got the key of the gallery. Miss Pembury has charge of it now, for she’s begun to make me a catalogue, and she is in there every morning before anybody else is up.”
“Ah!” said Lady Sarah sharply.
Sir Robert looked at her quickly, but she would give no explanation of what was in her mind, and the expedition to the gallery was given up for that evening.
CHAPTER VI.
JACK ROTHERFIELD
Nobody would have supposed, to judge by Lady Sarah’s attitude to Rhoda, that any suspicion or mistrust of her had ever entered her pretty head.
On the contrary, she went out of her way to be charming to her boy’s companion, openly congratulating herself on having provided him with such an amiable friend, and told Rhoda, with merry laughter, that she considered herself a most magnanimous person not to be jealous of such a formidable rival.