“That’s just it. You can talk well, but you allowed Paul and Mr. Fraser to absorb the attention of the table and bring in objectionable things. I have no patience with you. And Paul—what need was there for dragging in those horrid half-breed children and their mother? Surely the less said about them the better.”
“Oh, Mamma, I thought it was just splendid of him to stick up for them as he did.”
“What will Guy think of your friends, I wonder?”
“I wonder what he thinks of his own friends!” retorted Peg.
“What do you mean, child?”
“I mean that horrid creature, Lady Alicia, who went everywhere, and—and—you know the kind of person she is.”
“We only met her incidentally. And—of course, the thing is quite different. Her family is among the oldest in Dorset. Surely the thing is quite different from this horrid affair with a squaw. Ugh! it is too awful! Disgusting! What must Guy think of your friends in this country? And the idea of you kissing him that way!”
“I don’t know how I came to do that, Mamma. Somehow it seemed a very natural thing to do,” said Peg, blushing hotly. “I just couldn’t help it.”
“Then let there be no more of such nonsense. Guy was very much shocked.”
“Was he then, poor dear?” said Peg, with a grimace. “Oh, he will put it down to our extraordinary colonial ways. If Mr. Guy doesn’t like it, he can just lump it.”