Chapter Eleven.
Awkward Encounters.
“Oh, really, Sir Cheltnam, I would a great deal rather you waited till my brother is better,” said Aunt Anne, who seemed rather concerned about the sit of a couple of folds in her dress.
“Waited till he is better?” said the baronet, smiling.
“Well, you know what I mean. It is such an important thing that I really don’t like to interfere.”
“I would not ask you but I cannot ask Mr Elthorne. Wait? Oh, yes; I should be willing to wait, only, with all due respect to you, my dear Mrs Barnett, is it not rather indefinite?”
“Oh, dear me, I’m afraid so.”
“And time is going on. You see, I do not want to be exacting, but I should like to find rather a warmer welcome when I come, and to be asked more frequently. It is Mr Elthorne’s wishes.”
“Yes, yes, of course; I know that. But Isabel is very young.”
“It makes her the more attractive.”