Rhoda could scarcely believe her ears when she heard this young lad of twenty presuming thus to criticise his elders. The fact that there was at least a grain of truth in what he said made him, however, difficult to contradict, as he was impossible to silence.
“I should think,” she said severely, “that your society and that of your sister was lively enough to keep Lady Sarah amused.”
“Oh, no, she can’t flirt with me, and it’s flirtation she wants. It’s like oil to the engine with her. I suppose it is with everybody.”
“Not to Sir Robert,” said Rhoda with dignity.
“Oh, yes, to him too. Doesn’t he flirt with you?”
Rhoda was aghast at this impertinence.
George hastened to explain.
“In the nicest possible way, of course. But I should have thought he would have been delighted to get you to help him with his collection and things like that. You’re so quiet and gentle, you would be just the sedative he requires after a dose of Aunt Sarah.”
Rhoda was beyond measure shocked at this audacious speech, uttered as it was as if it had been the most natural and innocent in the world.
“I certainly never ‘flirt,’ as you call it, with Sir Robert, or with anybody,” she said with dignity.