"I mean Mr. Randolph," she answered, and she raised her eyes and fixed them on my face.
"Mr. Randolph?" I said. "Surely you must admit that he at least is a gentleman?"
"He is not only a gentleman, but he is more highly born and has more money than any one else in the house; he does not belong to the set who fill this house at all. Why does he come? This is no place for him. In one way it is quite as unsuitable to have him here as it is to have a man like Mr. Fanning here. Those two men represent opposite extremes. People will talk."
"What about?" I asked.
"About you, dear."
"They cannot. I will not permit it." Then I said abruptly, standing up in my excitement, "After all, I don't care whether they talk or not; I was prepared for misunderstandings when I came here. Mother likes Mr. Randolph; he at least shall stay."
"But, my child, it is not nice to be talked about; it is never nice for a young girl. People like my husband and myself quite understand. We know well that you and your mother are at present out of your right position, but others will not be so considerate. Mr. Randolph is always here."
"You think," I said, stammering, "that he comes because——"
She smiled, got up and kissed me.
"What else could he come for, Westenra?" she said softly.