“I think the five minutes are up, Miss Rea,” said Trevor, rising. “Perhaps you will take my arm, and we can stroll back as if nothing had happened. I will see Sir Hampton in the morning.”
Aunt Matty bowed, and then, wearing the aspect of some jointless phenomenon, she stalked by his side back into the drawing-room, where, in spite of the efforts of Lady Rea and Vanleigh, nothing could disperse the gloom that had fallen; and the party broke up with the departure of the gentlemen, who walked home on account of the beauty of the night—Vanleigh talking incessantly, and Trevor quiet, but striving hard to conceal his triumph.
“I’ll ease him as much as possible,” Trevor had said to himself, àpropos of Vanleigh.
“Poor brute! he little thinks how he’s shelved,” said Vanleigh to Landells.
“Little girl’s pos’tively b’witching,” said Landells.
“Who, Miss Rea?”
“Jove! No—sister. Sharp and bright as lit’ needle.”
“Just suit you, there, Flick.”
“Ya-as.”