“Baa—a—a—a,” mimicked Gwen wickedly, and Lawrence bit his lip.
“At least then, remember that you are a gentlewoman,” continued Mrs Carew severely, “or that Providence intended you for one.”
“Now you’re getting sarcastic, mummie.” Gwen went up and put her arm round her mother’s neck. “Don’t you get sarcastic with Gwennie, mummie, because she’s just all right underneath. It’s only on the top die’s queer. Because you thought you were going to rear a stately swan, and found you had only a wicked duckling, you needn’t frown and pucker up in that fashion. Stately swans are very tedious, and wicked ducklings do at least keep you going; so you ought really to go down on your knees and thank the good Providence that spared you the monotony of perpetually sailing about with your neck at an uncomfortable angle. Don’t you think so, Lawrie? Now, I’ll go and see his Earlship and be good. To him I shall put the case differently, and explain how infinitely preferable the calm of the stately swan is, beside the tiresome duckling,”—and she crossed the large drawing-room to the door. Here, however, she turned again.
“Lawrie.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know, I’ve an odd notion that if you haven’t already fallen in love with that Irish, country-bumpkin girl, you very shortly will!” and without giving him time to reply she vanished.
CHAPTER XXIV
Lawrence Hears Some News.
“Now, you know this is very foolish,” said Gwen.
When she entered the library Earl Selloyd had hastened to meet her with exaggerated courtesy, and dragged forward a big arm-chair, begging her to be seated. Gwen poised herself on the arm of it, and swung one foot.