"I suppose Miss Pitstone will be here before long?" she ventured, when she had supplied both the master of the house and herself.
"Twenty minutes—" said Lord Buntingford, looking at his watch. "Time enough for me to tell you a little more about her than I expect you know."
And again his smile put her at ease.
She bent forward, clasping her small hands.
"Please do! It would be a great help."
He noticed the delicacy of the hands, and of her slender body. The face attracted him—its small neat features, and brown eyes. Clearly a lady—that was something.
"Well, I shouldn't wonder—if you found her a handful," he said deliberately.
Mrs. Friend laughed—a little nervous laugh.
"Is she—is she very advanced?"
"Uncommonly—I believe. I may as well tell you candidly she didn't want to come here at all. She wanted to go to college. But her mother, who was a favourite cousin of mine, wished it. She died last autumn; and Helena promised her that she would allow me to house her and look after her for two years. But she regards it as a dreadful waste of time."