“Who does Guy think himself like? Some one very wicked and beautiful—don’t you, Guy?” said Rory.
“Dorian Gray!” said Arnold, looking up from his book with a meaning grin.
“Oh no, no, I’m sure it’s some very literary character,” said Concha.
“Shelley?” suggested Teresa; but she gave the little smile that always seemed scornful to Guy.
“Percy Bysshe ... is she right, Guy?”
“No,” said Guy sulkily.
“Shakespeare—Tennyson—Burns? Who, then?”
“Oh, Keats if you like—when he was in love with Fanny Brawne,” cried Guy furiously, and, seizing the book that lay nearest to him, he began to read it.
“I say, this is a lovely game—almost as good as cock-fighting!” said Rory: “What about Mr. Lane? I wonder who you think you are like, sir.”
Tactful young man, so anxious to make his host feel at home!