"He has been making himself agreeable to her," said my lady, with grim pleasure. "He can do it if he chooses; and he is just the man to please a girl,—good-looking, and with a fine, domineering air."
"How did you enjoy yourself?" she asked.
"Very much," said Lucia; "never more, thank you."
"Oh!" ejaculated my lady. "And which of her smart New York gowns did Miss Octavia Bassett wear?"
They were at the dinner-table; and, instead of looking down at her soup, Lucia looked quietly and steadily across the table at her grandmother.
"She wore a very pretty one," she said: "it was pale fawn-color, and fitted her like a glove. She made me feel very old-fashioned and badly dressed."
Lady Theobald laid down her spoon.
"She made you feel old-fashioned and badly dressed,—you!"
"Yes," responded Lucia: "she always does. I wonder what she thinks of the things we wear in Slowbridge." And she even went to the length of smiling a little.
"What she thinks of what is worn in Slowbridge!" Lady Theobald ejaculated. "She! may I ask what weight the opinion of a young woman from America—from Nevada—is supposed to have in Slowbridge?"