She glanced across the room towards Lucille in a manner strangely cold.
"Why do you encourage this man?" I asked, returning to the subject from which Isabella had so easily glided away. "He is not a gentleman. Seems to me the man is a—dark horse!"
"Well, you ought to know," said Isabella, with a promptness which made me reflect that I was no match for the veriest schoolgirl in a warfare of words.
"A MOST NOBLE AND COMPETENT PROTECTOR!" SHE SAID, IN HER BITING WAY, "WHEN YOU ARE ALWAYS FORTUNE-HUNTING, OR ELSE IN FRANCE TAKING CARE OF BEAUTY IN DISTRESS."
"I did not understand," continued Isabella, looking at me under her lashes, "that you looked upon yourself as my protector. It is rather an amusing thought!"
"Oh! I do not pretend to competence," answered I; "I know you to be cleverer, and quite capable of managing your own affairs. If there was anything you wanted, no doubt you could get it better without my assistance than with it."
"No doubt," put in Isabella, with a queer curtness.
"But my father looked upon you rather in the light I mentioned. He was very fond of you, and thought much of your welfare, and—"
"You think the burden should be hereditary," she interrupted again, but she smiled in a manner that softened the acerbity of her words.