"Oh, quite," said Jean; "I'm sure you were wise."
"We were so sorry," went on Mrs. Duff-Whalley, "that dear Lord Bidborough and his charming sister couldn't come. We have got so fond of both of them. Muriel and Lord Bidborough have so much in common—music, you know, and other things. I simply couldn't tear them away from the piano at The Towers. Isn't it wonderful how simple and pleasant they are considering their lineage? Actually living in that little dog-hole of a Hillview. I always think Miss Bathgate's such an insolent woman; no notion of her proper place. She looks at me as if she actually thought she was my equal, and wasn't she positively rude to you, Muriel, when you called with some message?"
"Oh, frightful woman!" said Muriel airily. "She was most awfully rude to me. You would have thought that I wanted to burgle something." She gave an affected laugh. "I simply stared through her. I find that irritates that class of person frightfully … How do you like my sables, Jean? Yes—a present."
"They are beautiful," said Jean serenely, but to herself she muttered bitterly, "Opulent lumps!"
"David goes back to Oxford next week," she said aloud, the thought of money recalling David's lack of it.
"Oh, really! How exciting for him," Mrs. Duff-Whalley said. "I suppose you won't have heard from Miss Reston since she went away?"
"I had a letter from her a few days ago."
Mrs. Duff-Whalley waited expectantly for a moment, but as Jean said nothing more she continued:
"Did she talk of future plans? We simply must fix them both up for a week at The Towers. Lord Bidborough told us he had quite fallen in love with Priorsford and would be sure to come back. I thought it was so sweet of him. Priorsford is such a dull little place."
"Yes," said Jean; "it was very condescending of him."