“But you have been in Leicestershire, Freddy,” Jack reminded him. “I fancy the Chevalier has not long been amongst us, though I am told that he was reared in England.”
“Yes, that is quite true,” Kitty said. “I think my uncle came to England on account of the troubles in France, but Uncle Matthew so much dislikes French people that he would never invite my relations to Arnside. And so I never saw Camille more than once in my life, and that was when I was quite a little girl. But I never forgot him, or how kind he was in mending the doll Claud sent to the guillotine!”
“I cannot tell you, my dear Kitty, how happy I am that it has been my privilege to bring you together again,” said Jack, rising from his chair. “I must tear myself from you, Meg. How unkind it was of you, by the way, not to have invited me to go with you tonight! Our dear Kitty’s first visit to the theatre! It is an event—one which I would give much to witness. But you will tell me all about it, Kitty, won’t you?”
“You would find that a great bore, I am persuaded!” she retorted.
“No, no! When have I ever been bored by your confidences?” he said, quizzing her.
“But, Jack, I will not be so wronged!” Meg cried, “It is Freddy’s party, you must know, not mine!”
“Then it was very unkind of Freddy,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
“Thought you was promised to Stichill tonight?” said Freddy.
“I am, of course,” admitted Mr. Westruther. “But it was still very unkind in you not to have invited me!” He then took an unconventional leave of Kitty, pinching her chin, and bidding her enjoy herself, and went away.
“Never knew such a complete hand!” said Freddy. “I must say, I’m glad he ain’t coming. For one thing, he’d very likely cut the piece up, and for another, five’s an awkward number. Stonehouse is going along with us, and we’ll have supper afterwards at the Piazza. You’ll like that, Kit.”