“No,” he said. “I have no wish to talk to Miss Broughty, or her deplorable cousins, and I would advise you, my love, to be a little more careful what friends you make, in London. This connection cannot add to your credit, believe me!”
“I have no patience with such stupid pride!” she said. “It is all folly and self-consequence!”
He glanced down at her, a glint in his eye. “You are becoming remarkably hot at hand, my child, are you not? No: Freddy is decidedly not the man to control your spurts! However, don’t let us quarrel! I want to talk to you of quite another matter. Have you had any news lately from Arnside?”
She turned her head, surprised. “Why, yes! Fish writes to me every week!”
“Have you any notion that all is not well there?”
“Not the least in the world!” she replied. “To be sure, poor Fish could do nothing but bemoan her lot at first, but she is such a good creature she has made the best of it, and, indeed, is not, I think, managing so very ill. Uncle Matthew’s gout is less painful, which must make it not so disagreeable for Fish. Why should you suppose something is amiss?”
“Merely that I have had no word from him. In general, he is a regular correspondent of mine, as you may know. However, I daresay I am in disgrace with him.”
She knew that this was true, but said nothing. Mr. Westruther turned his head, and she saw that his eyes were laughing again. “For not obeying his peremptory summons,” he explained.
“He did not quite like it, perhaps,” she acknowledged. “He has the oddest notions! For my part, I was thankful that you did not come. I knew you would not, of course.”
“Why, yes, I imagine you might,” he said. She looked up quickly, and he added, smiling: “I never supposed, Kitty, that you would wish me to offer for you at my granduncle’s bidding.”