“Claire dear, you’re going mad. That man hasn’t a penny.”
“Well?” said Claire gravely. “And you are encouraging him.”
“As you are encouraging Sir Harry Payne? No, May; you are mistaken.”
“I declare if you are going to insult me I will not stay,” cried May, turning scarlet. “It is disgraceful. It is cruel. If I could only find Frank—”
Just then a loud burst of angry voices came from one of the card-tables. It was eleven o’clock; there had been refreshments; the room was very hot, and the play, for ladies, high; and now the voice of the Master of the Ceremonies was heard in protest.
“Ladies—ladies—I beg—I must request—”
“Order my carriage directly, Sir Matthew. It serves me right for coming to such a place,” cried Lady Drelincourt.
“Yes; you had no business here,” cried Mrs Barclay.
“And mixing with such low people,” cried Lady Drelincourt.
“Low people? Better be low than not honest.”