Emily herself solved the problem, producing her commonplace with a friendly tentative smile.
"Isn't it a lovely country?" she said.
"It's perfect," answered the mother. "I've never visited Europe before, and the English country seems to me just exquisite. We have a summer place in America, but the country is quite different."
She was good-natured and disposed to talk, and, with Emily Fox-Seton's genial assistance, conversation flowed. Before they were half-way to Mallowe, it had revealed itself that they were from Cincinnati, and after a winter spent in Paris, largely devoted to visits to Paquin, Doucet, and Virot, they had taken a house in Mayfair for the season. Their name was Brooke. Emily thought she remembered hearing of them as people who spent a great deal of money and went incessantly to parties, always in new and lovely clothes. The girl had been presented by the American minister, and had had a sort of success because she dressed and danced exquisitely. She was the kind of American girl who ended by marrying a title. She had sparkling eyes and a delicate tip-tilted nose. But even Emily guessed that she was an astute little person.
"Have you ever been to Mallowe Court before?" she inquired.
"No; and I am so looking forward to it. It is so beautiful."
"Do you know Lady Maria very well?"
"I've known her about three years. She has been very kind to me."
"Well, I shouldn't have taken her for a particularly kind person. She's too sharp."
Emily amiably smiled. "She's so clever," she replied.