“I don’t entirely care to mention it,” said Sophy mendaciously, “but you know how fond I am of Cecy! Then, too, I have been about the world and have learnt to take care of myself. Cecy is such an innocent! There is not a particle of harm in Augustus Fawnhope, and Francis Wolvey is by far too great a gentleman to go beyond the line. But you should not encourage so lovely a girl as your sister to stroll about the Park with the Dishonorable Alfred, Charles!”
He was so much taken aback that for a moment he did not say a word. Then he demanded an explanation.
“He is the kind of odious little toad who kisses the housemaids on the stairs,” replied Sophy frankly.
“My sister is not a housemaid!”
“No, and I do trust she will know how to keep him at arm’s length.”
“May I know whether you have the slightest grounds for bringing this charge against Wraxton?”
“If you mean, have I seen him kiss a housemaid, no, dear Charles, I have not. If, on the other hand, you mean, has he tried to kiss me, yes, dear Charles, he has. In this very room, too.”
He looked angry and mortified. “I am extremely sorry that you should have been annoyed in such a fashion under this roof,” he said, getting the words out with an effort.
“Oh, I don’t mind it! I told you I was able to take care of myself. But I doubt whether anyone could prevent his — his squeezing and stroking habits or convince him that the style of his conversation is quite improper.”
She had been taking off her pelisse as she spoke, and she now laid it aside and sat down in a winged chair beside the fireplace. After a moment he said, in a milder tone, “I shall not pretend that I have any liking for Wraxton, for I have not. So far as it lies within my power I shall certainly discourage his visits to this house. My situation is, however, as you said yourself, awkward. I would not, upon any account, have this come to Miss Wraxton’s ears.”