“He should be clever, Betty,” she sighed, “a worker, a dreamer of great dreams, a firebrand in every good cause, a patriot willing to fight to the last drop of his blood——”
Lady Betty’s laughter disconcerted her and she paused.
“And that is why you chose the Honorable Cyril?”
Miss Mather compressed her lips and frowned at her image in the mirror.
“Don’t be nasty, Betty. I couldn’t marry a man as old as John Rizzio.”
Lady Betty only laughed again.
“Forgive me, dear, but it really is most curious. I wouldn’t laugh if you hadn’t been so careful to describe to me all the virtues that Cyril—hasn’t.”
Doris powdered the end of her nose thoughtfully.
“I suppose they’re all a myth—men like that. They simply don’t exist—that’s all.”
Lady Betty pinned a final jewel on her bodice.