"He has—on most generous terms. Shall I take it?"
She flushed a little, for the ardent deference in his eyes was not easy to ignore. But she examined his news seriously—kindling over it.
"His agent—agent for his miserable, neglected property! Heavens, what a chance!"
She looked at him, her soul in her face. Something warned him to be cautious.
"You think it so neglected?"
"I know it: but ask Lord Tatham! He's chairman of some committee or other—he'll tell you."
"But perhaps I shall have to fight Tatham? Suppose that turns out to be my chief business?"
"Oh, no, you can't—you can't! He's too splendid—in all those things."
"He is of course the model youth," said Faversham dryly.
"Ah, but you can't hate him either!" cried Lydia, divining at once the shade of depreciation. "He is the kindest, dearest fellow! I agree—it's provoking not to be able to sniff at him—such a Prince Charming—with all the world at his feet. But one can't—one really can't!"