But Hester was in a wayward mood, and inclined to prospect.
"Suppose such was not really Corney's reason," she resumed, "but that he thought it degraded him to be the brother of an intended professional—what would you say to that?"
"I should tell him he was a fool. He cannot know his Burke," he added laughingly, "to be ignorant of the not inconsiderable proportion of professional blood mixed with the blue in our country."
It was not in Vavasor's usual taste: he had forgotten his best manners. But in truth he never had any best manners: comparatively few have anything but second-best, as the court of the universe will one day reveal. Hester did not like the remark, and he fancied from her look she had misunderstood him.
"Many a singer and actress too has married a duke or a marquis," he supplemented in explanation.
"What sort of a duke or marquis?" asked Hester, in a studiedly wooden way. "It was the more shame to them," she added.
"Pardon me. I cannot allow that it would be any shame to the best of our nobility—"
"I beg your pardon—I meant to the professionals," interrupted Hester.
Vavasor was posed. To her other eccentricities it seemed Miss Raymount added radicalism—and that not of the palest pink! But happily for him, Cornelius, who had been all the time making noises on the piano, at this point appeared at the window.
"Come, Hetty," he said, "sing that again. I shall sing it ever so much better after! Come, I will play the accompaniment."