“No. She is not painted. I cannot say that I found her vulgar at our first meeting. She has a pleasant way; her manners are a little free, but not disagreeably so; her voice is good; her air and countenance quite distinguished. As far as appearances go, she will do very well.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” gasped his aunt.
“No, I haven’t. I said, as far as appearances go. Under this not unprepossessing exterior, she is a harpy.”
“Heaven help my poor boy!” moaned Lady Mablethorpe.
“I hope heaven may do so; I most certainly shall. Leave he to me, ma’am! If I have to kidnap Adrian, she shall not get her talons into him!”
She seemed to consider this suggestion on its merits, and to be not ill-pleased with it. “Do you suppose that would answer? she asked.
“No.”
“Then what in the world is the use of thinking of such a thing?” she demanded crossly.
“I am not thinking of it. I would sooner kidnap the girl.”
“Max!” exclaimed his aunt, as an unwelcome thought entered her brain. “Do not tell me that she has got you under her odious spell!”