“Why, Arthur, I had almost forgotten what you are like,” said Mildred, when that young gentleman at last put in an appearance at the Quinta. “Where have you been to all this time?”
“I—oh, I have been writing letters,” said Arthur.
“Then they must have been very long ones. Don’t tell fibs, Arthur; you have not stopped away from here for a day and a half in order to write letters. What is the matter with you?”
“Well, if you must know, Mildred, I detest your friend Lord Minster, the mere sight of him sets my teeth on edge, and I did not want to meet him. I only came here to-day because Lady Florence told me that they were going up to the Convent this afternoon.”
“So you have been to see Lady Florence?”
“No, I met her buying fruit yesterday, and went for a walk with her.”
“In the intervals of the letter-writing?”
“Yes.”
“Well, do you know I detest Lady Florence?”
“That is very unkind of you. She is charming.”