These half-dozen young men were, one and all, beginning with John Bloxsome, unfavorable specimens of San Franciscan youth. One or two of them were handsome; one or two were apparently not ill-educated—but they had enjoyed few social advantages; they were loud and familiar; their standards of conduct were low; and they moved in a circumscribed orbit, outside which they neither knew, nor cared for, anything. Their attitude towards Mordaunt Ballinger was not openly inimical.
Civility, which would have been overpowering but that it lacked the ring of sincerity, was the rule. They were always offering Mordaunt "drinks" at the bar, whenever he passed through the hall, or inviting him to go to a gambling-saloon, or to other resorts, all of which he rather loftily declined. Nor did they fare much better with Grace. She marvelled at Miss Planter's toleration. But early association, custom, and that wonderful adaptability of hers accounted for it, she supposed.
This only partially interfered with the intimacy, which chance had done so much to forward, between the Ballingers and the Planters, by the fact of their travelling those three days together. Mrs. Frampton would certainly have declined the drives to the Seal Rocks and the Presidio, the theatre-parties and the expeditions by night to the Chinese Quarter, in which she and her niece joined, had her mind not been gradually inured to accept the idea of the Planters as of something which it was useless to try and avoid. And indeed, personally, she had no wish to avoid them. She was indisposed to accept the handsome American girl as a fitting wife for Mordaunt, but, short of this, she liked her fairly well; and with Père Planter she was now great friends. The mother and she had not much in common, and the young men annoyed her—perhaps too evidently. But, on the whole, there was no denying that the Planters' being in the same hotel, and being so cordially disposed towards the English trio, made their stay at San Francisco far more agreeable than it would otherwise have been. That this should be so in the case of Mordaunt was a foregone conclusion. Yet, strange to say, he was the one who seemed least happy. What his aunt called the "braying chorus" disturbed his equanimity even more than it did hers. His manner towards these noisy young men had, it must be confessed, that exasperating superiority which is calculated to inflame animosity more than anything else. Clare—perhaps of set purpose—was occasionally capricious in her demeanor towards him. As a rule, she certainly showed more preference for the society of her English admirer than for that of any other man. But, now and again, she would, almost ostentatiously, choose Bloxsome or one of the "braying chorus" to walk with, or retire to a corner of the room with, and converse with in whispers, to Mordaunt's utter distraction. He did his best not to let his wretchedness be seen at such times, but to his aunt and sister it was only too apparent. This irritation was further aggravated by the receipt of letters which he burned, without naming them, at the time, but the effect of which was apparent to both Mrs. Frampton and Grace. The former was not altogether displeased. If, by suffering, the evil she dreaded could be averted, why, then, it was better so. But each, after her own fashion, acknowledged the obligations they were all under to the Planters.
"They certainly are very kind," said Mrs. Frampton; "much kinder than English people would be to three Americans of whom they knew so little. And what surprises me is that Mr. Planter should not avoid us altogether if he does not wish his daughter to marry Mordy. To our ideas it seems very odd—letting a man be with your daughter so much if you want to discourage him."
"That is because you do not understand the American character, and way of bringing up. Clare has never been controlled; she doesn't know what it means. She likes Mordy's devotion—up to a certain point—as she likes these other young men dangling after her. Whether it means more than this, as regards Mordy, I can't say. I doubt if she knows herself. She seems to me, every now and then, to be afraid; to be determined to make a stand; not to be hurried, and therefore to go on as she does with the others."
"I am very glad she does," said her aunt, decisively. "I like the girl, but she is an outrageous flirt; and Mordy's eyes had much better be open to the fact. All the same, it is not humanly possible she can prefer any of those creatures to Mordy, and therefore I can't understand the father letting them be so much together."
"I am quite sure opposition would do no good. If she was curbed she would kick. Mr. Planter shows his wisdom in giving her her head."
"What a horsy illustration, my dear! What you say makes me feel more and more that the girl, attractive as she is—and I really do like her now—is not fitted for English domestic life. A woman who doesn't know what yielding means, and who wants a chorus of idiots, or of vulgarians like Mr. Bloxsome, round her, is not our ideal of a wife."
"She would be quite different when she married, aunt. That is the peculiarity of these Americans. They take their fun out as girls. When the serious business of life begins, and they are put into double harness—I declare I am getting horsy again!—they give up kicking and rearing, and settle down into a steady trot."
"Well, I shall never understand them—never! How a girl who knows what an English gentleman is like can for a moment tolerate such a set of men as I see round her! It passes all belief. How long does Mordy mean to stay here? As to business, it is all nonsense. He has left none of the introductions to business men which he brought. The sooner we can get him away, the better."