“The delight is mine!” was the response, spoken with just that touch of well-bred deference which is never so attractive to a woman as when it is exhibited in conjunction with such a personality as Loring’s. “It is one for which I have wished for a long time!”
“Seen the papers to-night?” interposed Julian eagerly. “We’ve lost Nottingham, you see!”
He was alluding to a bye-election which had led to the political discussion of the evening before, and Loring nodded.
“I see,” said Loring. “Romayne has told you, no doubt,” he went on, turning to Mrs. Romayne, “that we foregathered to a considerable extent last night over politics—and other things.” The last words were spoken with a glance at the younger man which seemed to ascribe to their acquaintance an altogether more personal and friendly footing than political discussion alone could have afforded it, and Mrs. Romayne laughed very graciously.
“Yes; he has told me!” she said. “I am rather thinking of getting a little jealous of you, Mr. Loring.”
A few minutes’ more talk followed—talk in which Loring bore himself with his usual cynical manner, just tempered into even unusual effectiveness—and then Mrs. Romayne prepared to move on.
“You must come and see us,” she said to Loring. “Julian will give you the address. I am at home on Fridays; and I hope you will dine with us before long!”
She gave him a pretty nod and an “au revoir,” and turned away.
“He’s awfully jolly, isn’t he, mother?” exclaimed Julian, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Very good style,” returned Mrs. Romayne approvingly. “He is just the kind of man to get on. You have a good deal of discrimination, sir,” she added.