But Gabrielle, remembering—for the first time, perhaps, that day—that a cousin is not the same as a brother by many degrees, did not answer.
She was thinking of some one else who was neither kith nor kin, but vastly dearer all the same. If ever she went to Brittany she hoped that Michael Berrington would be beside her. Cousin Jéhan was but a boy!
She did not, however, press the latter to remain at Langton when he suggested—half hesitatingly—that he might ride to town that night in quest of Morry. Certainly no time should be lost on such an errand.
CHAPTER XI
THE ADVANTAGES OF A KEYHOLE
The buxom daughter of mine host at the Goat and Compasses, not half-a-mile from Carlton House, had her own opinions. They were decided, and showed an unusual power of discernment.
Mr. Conyers was a very pretty gentleman, in spite of a reprehensible habit of kissing too freely when rosy lips were near and tempting; but he was not to be compared—so Mollie told herself—with Mr. Michael Berrington, who was not pretty at all, and had not even a glance for Mollie, let alone a kiss, but was all eyes and ears for that handsome and lavish gentleman his father, who clung to him one moment and flouted him the next.
Mollie had met a good many Sir Stephens before! Then there was that Frenchman, who talked so much and seemed so fond of making fun of King George—bless him! Mollie did not like foreigners, and was as loyal as she was plump and pretty.
With her ear to the keyhole she was trying hard to hear more of what Moosoo Trouet was saying to Mr. Conyers and that sleepy-eyed Lord Denningham, who had made her blush with the freedom of his remarks as to her charms.