He did not at once reply. He was shaking hands with Blanche.
“How do you do, Miss Derwent?” he said easily. “I hope Mrs Derwent is well, and that famous little brother of yours?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Blanche, in a tone which she endeavoured to render unconstrained, though feeling for once nervous, and ill at ease and disgusted at herself for being so, especially as Mr Dunstan struck her as his airiest, most conventional self.
“I really can’t stay,” he went on, turning again to Lady Marth. “Auntie is counting upon me, as she has got a man too few, and some people are coming to dinner.”
“It’s only to take in Rosy,” said Norman, with a brother’s brutality.
“Only Rosy!” repeated Lady Marth. “My dear Norman, if Rosy were any one but your sister, I don’t think you would be quite so much at a loss to account for Archie’s obstinacy.”
Archie laughed a hearty unconstrained laugh. “Archie’s taste is not peculiar; every one loves a tête-à-tête with Rosy, when they have a chance of it,” said Hebe, with apparently uncalled-for warmth.
“Of course they do,” said Sir Adam, speaking for the first time.—“And now, my dear Blanche, if you’ve had a cup of tea, I think we must be off—I have to get back to Alderwood in time for dinner, too, Master Archie. By-the-bye, we’ve got the large brougham—will you come with us viâ Blissmore, though it is rather a round?”
“Well no, I think I prefer Norman’s cart, which is here,” said Mr Dunstan lightly. “Though many thanks, all the same.”
“And how is Norman going to get home, then?” said Lady Marth. “You’re not going to force him away too?”