CHAPTER XV
AFTER dinner that night, Lee and Lady Mary Gifford, instead of following the other women, strolled along the corridors for a quiet chat. They were not intimate, for they had too little in common, but they admired each other and Lee had seen something more of Lady Mary than of any of the Englishwomen whom she received in her little drawing-room on Tuesdays or maintained a community of interests with during that division of the year allotted to house-parties.
“I like your cousin, or whatever he is,” announced Lady Mary, clasping her hands behind her. “He doesn’t talk through his nose and he’s quite at his ease. As a rule I detest American men as much as I like the women. Of course he’s rich—you can always tell.”
“He’s very rich.”
“Now don’t jump—I’d like you to marry me to him.”
Lee did jump. “Really?” she said dryly.
“I’d rather never marry: if I had a talent I’d go and set up a studio in Kensington, or take chambers and write a popular novel. Of course I could make hats or open a florist’s shop, but neither is to my taste; and I really can’t hang on any longer—twenty-seven and my ninth season—it’s positively sickening. I have had one or two good offers—in the long ago—but I hated the thought of marrying then more than I do now—when a thing has to be it never seems quite so bad. Of course I could get any numbers of parvenus, and I’d almost made up my mind to Mr. Pix, but I should feel quite reconciled to Mr. Montgomery.”
“That is very amiable of you, but I don’t see what you are offering to Mr. Montgomery; and as he is almost my oldest friend I have his happiness to consider. He would not care a rap for your title——”
“Wouldn’t he? How very odd. But I’d make him quite happy. You know I am fascinating. Some men have gone quite off their heads about me.”
“If you send Randolph off his head he’ll undoubtedly propose to you. You will have plenty of opportunity.”