He was equally bored with the young girls who gazed at him in adoration, and the women who petted him, and it was a considerable source of worry to him that he might appear effeminate, because of his blue eyes and golden hair, and fresh, clear complexion, when in reality he was as manly as the plainest of hard-sinewed warriors, though the indulgence of a slightly aesthetic manner and way of speech, learnt at the University, increased rather than counteracted the suggestion of effeminacy.
But, taking all things into consideration, he was singularly unspoilt and unassuming; and sometimes blended with an old-fashioned, paternal air a boyishness and power of enjoyment that could not fail to charm.
The first time that Lorraine met the trio was when Hal took her to spend the evening at the flat one Sunday, by arrangement with her cousin. She herself knew all three well, having been to the flat many times, but it had taken some little persuasion to get Lorraine to go with her.
“Of course they are just boys,” said grandiloquent twenty-five, “but they are quite amusing, and they will be proud of it all their lives if they can say they once had Lorraine Vivian at the flat as a guest.”
“What do you call boys?” asked Lorraine, looking amused; “I thought you said they had all left college,”
“So they have, but that’s nothing. Dick is only twenty-five, and the others are about twenty-four.”
“A much more irritating age than mere boyhood as a rule.”
“Decidedly; but they really are a little exceptional. Dick, of course, is quite mad—that’s what makes him interesting. Alymer Hermon is a giant with a great cricket reputation, and Harold St. Quintin is a sort of modern Francis Assisi with a sense of humour.”
“The giant sounds the dullest. I hope he doesn’t want to talk cricket all the time, because I don’t know anything about it, except that if a man stands before the wicket he is out, and if he stands behind it he is not in.”
“Oh no; he doesn’t talk cricket. He mostly talks drivel with Dick, and St. Quintin laughs.”