“I am to see the club-house some morning before the members begin to arrive,” she said. “It is a perfectly charming club. There is a theatre, which serves as a ballroom on grand occasions. There is to be a dance next week; and Lady Lochinvar will chaperon me, if you don’t mind.”
“I shall be most grateful to Lady Lochinvar, dear. Believe me, if I am a hermit, I don’t want to keep you in melancholy seclusion. I am very glad for you to have pleasant friends.”
“Mrs. Murray is delightful. She begged me to call her Jessie. She is going to take me for a drive before lunch to-morrow, and we are to do some shopping in the afternoon. The shops here are simply lovely.”
“Almost as nice as Brighton?”
“Better. They have more chic; and I am told they are twice as dear.”
“Was Mr. Stuart at the tennis-court?”
“Yes, he plays there every afternoon when he is not at Monte Carlo.”
“That does not sound like a very useful existence.”
“Perhaps you will say he is an adventurer,” exclaimed Pamela, with a flash of temper; and then repenting in a moment, she added: “I beg your pardon, aunt; but you are really wrong about Mr. Stuart. He looks after Lady Lochinvar’s estate. He is invaluable to her.”
“But he cannot do much for the estate when he is playing tennis here or gambling at Monte Carlo.”