“Oh?”
“My mother will listen to you,” said Adrian confidently. “You see, she has taken an absurd notion into her head that Deb is not good enough for me. Of course, I know that her being in Lady Bel’s house is a most unfortunate circumstance, but she is not in the least the sort of girl you might imagine, Max, upon my word she is not! She don’t even like cards above a little! It is all to help her aunt.”
“Did she tell you so?”
“Oh no, it was Kennet who told me! He has known her since her childhood. Really, Max, she is the dearest, sweetest—oh, there are no words to describe her!”
Mr Ravenscar could have found several, but refrained.
“She is not like any other woman I have ever met,” pursued his lordship. “I wonder that you were not struck by it!”
“Well, I have met rather more women than you have as yet had time to,” said Ravenscar apologetically. “That might account for it.”
“Yes, but I should have thought that even you—however, that’s neither here nor there! What I want you to understand, Max, is that I mean to marry Deb, whatever anyone may choose to say about it!”
“Very well; and now that I understand that, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Well, Max, I thought I could talk to you so much more easily than to my mother. You know how it is with her. Just because Deb has been in the habit of presiding in a gaminghouse, she will not listen to a word I say! It is monstrously unjust! It is not Deb’s fault that she is obliged to be friendly towards men like Filey and Ormskirk: she cannot help herself! Oh, I can scarcely wait to take her away from it all!”