“Who?” asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he meant.
“I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and Vivian Darnley,” said he quietly.
She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.
With how Spartan a completeness women can hide the shootings and quiverings of mental pain, and of bodily pain too, when the motive is sufficient! Under this latter they are often clamorous, to be sure; but the demonstration expresses not want of patience, but the feminine yearning for compassion.
“I fancy nothing would please the young rogue Vivian better. I wish I were half so sure of her. You girls are so unaccountable, so fanciful, and—don't be angry—so uncertain.”
“Well, I suppose, as you say, we must only have patience, and leave the matter in the hands of Time, who settles most things pretty well.”
She raised her eyes, and fancied she saw Grace Maubray at the same moment withdraw hers from her face. Lady May was talking from the end of the table with Mr. Longcluse.
“Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr. Longcluse?”
“Yes.”
“He is a City notability; but oddly, I never happened to see him till this evening. Do you think there is something curious in his appearance?”