The old lady, as I have said, looked ill and very tired, and as if she had grown all at once very old; and instead of answering, she only nodded once or twice, and signed across the table to Lady Jane.
"Oh! I forgot," said Sir Jekyl; "you know Wardlock and all our distances, don't you, Lady Jane—can you tell me?"
"I don't remember," said Lady Jane, hardly turning toward him; "ten or twelve miles—is not it? it may be a good deal more. I don't really recollect;" and this was uttered with an air which plainly said, "I don't really care."
"I generally ride my visits, and a mile or two more or less does not signify; but one ought to know all the distances for thirty miles round; you don't know otherwise who's your neighbour."
"Do you think it an advantage to know that any particular person is your neighbour?" inquired impertinent Drayton, with his light moustache, leaning back and looking drowsily into his glasses after his wont.
"Oh! Mr. Drayton, the country without neighbours—how dreadful!" exclaimed Miss Blunket. "Existence without friends."
"Friends—bosh!" said Drayton, confidentially, to his wine.
"There's Drayton scouting friendship, the young cynic!" cried Sir Jekyl. "Do call him to order, Lady Jane."
"I rather incline to agree with Mr. Drayton," said Lady Jane, coldly.
"Do you mean to say you have no friends?" said Sir Jekyl, in well-bred amazement.