Algernon begged her not to call them 'loves.' She nodded and smiled.
"Your artistic admirations," she observed. "I am to see her in church, am I not? Only, my dear Algy, don't go too far. Rustic beauties are as dangerous as Court Princesses. Where was it you saw her first?"
"At the Bank," said Algernon.
"Really! at the Bank! So your time there is not absolutely wasted. What brought her to London, I wonder?"
"Well, she has an old uncle, a queer old fellow, and he's a sort of porter—money porter—in the Bank, awfully honest, or he might half break it some fine day, if he chose to cut and run. She's got a sister, prettier than this girl, the fellows say; I've never seen her. I expect I've seen a portrait of her, though."
"Ah!" Mrs. Lovell musically drew him on. "Was she dark, too?"
"No, she's fair. At least, she is in her portrait."
"Brown hair; hazel eyes?"
"Oh—oh! You guess, do you?"
"I guess nothing, though it seems profitable. That Yankee betting man 'guesses,' and what heaps of money he makes by it!"