He was a long-limbed, graceful man, with an aquiline face and superb eyes, which at this moment were resting complacently upon Dolly herself. It was not exactly admiration, either, which they expressed, it was something of a more entertaining nature, at least so Dolly found it,—it was nothing more nor less than a slowly awakening interest in her which paid her the compliment of rising above the surface of evident boredom and overcoming lassitude. It looked as if he was just beginning to study her, and found the game worth the candle. Dolly met his glance with steadiness, and as she met it she measured him. Then she turned to Euphemia again and fluttered the fan slowly and serenely.
“He's nice, is n't he?” commented the guileless Phemie. “If the rest of them were like him, I don't think we should be so stupid, but as it is, you know, he can't talk when there is nobody to talk to.”
“No,” said Dolly. “One could hardly expect it of him. But I wonder why he does not say something to that thin lady in the dress-cap.”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Phemie, “I don't wonder in the least. That is Miss Berenice MacDowlas, Dolly.”
“Miss Berenice MacDowlas!” echoed Dolly, with a start. “You don't say so?”
“Yes,” answered Euphemia. “Do you know her? You spoke as if you did.”
“Well—yes—no,” answered Dolly, with a half laugh. “I should say I know somebody who does.”
And she looked as if she was rather enjoying some small joke of her own. The fact was that Miss MacDowlas was no other than Griffith's amiable aunt. But, of course, it would not have done to tell this to Euphemia Bilberry. Euphemia's ideas on the subject of the tender passion were as yet crude and unformed, and Dolly Crewe was not prone to sentimental confidences, so, as yet, Euphemia and indeed the whole Bilberry family, remained in blissful ignorance of the very existence of such a person as Mr. Griffith Donne.
If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a promising subject for diplomatic beguiling.
“We have no need to depend upon her,” was Dolly's mental decision. “One glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with her. I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory when 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting.”