“Forlorn? I didn’t know that I looked forlorn, whatever I may feel at times. There are—moments . . .” She sighed, and then said with her usual energy: “But they pass. You are a sympathetic creature, Cicely. I ought to be ashamed of looking or feeling forlorn when I have two such good children. And so many good friends. They have been very considerate.” She paused, faintly smiling. “You know, dear, even Mr. Grimshaw leaves me in peace.”
Cicely hoped that she was not blushing, as she murmured:
“Heavens! Why shouldn’t he?”
“I anticipated pesterings. A man with his ideas . . . Thousands of pounds! And now, when we all have to think in pence. He is certainly clever. Our people like him. I have given him some shooting. The partridges we had at dinner were shot by him. I see very little of him. Does he go to Wilverley?”
She shot a glance at Cicely, who thanked her stars that she was able to answer truthfully:
“Never!”
Lady Selina brightened. Not for a king’s ransom would she have pleaded dear Arthur’s cause. To do so, however delicately, might invite disaster. And it would be equally indiscreet to “run down” a too attractive, impecunious young man. She decided that a little faint praise was much safer.
“By the way, he is not one of the Grimthorpe Grimshaws. But he will do very well, and in due time step into dear Dr. Pawley’s shoes.”
“His list slippers.”
Lady Selina blinked, and then shied away from rebuke, a notable abstention. Cicely continued hastily: