"Vievie knows he is a man—which is more than can be said of some of them," thrust Dolores, with a mocking glance at Lord James.
"My dear," urged Mrs. Gantry, "give no heed to that silly chit. I wish to commend your stand against the fatal attraction of mere brute efficiency."
"Oh, I say!" put in Lord James. "It's this I must protest against, Miss Leslie—this talk of his brute qualities—when it's only the lack of polish. You should know that. He's a thistle, prickly without, but within soft as silk."
"Do I not know?" exclaimed Genevieve, for the moment unable to maintain her perfect composure.
"The metaphor was very touching and most loyal, my dear earl," said Mrs. Gantry. "Yet you must pardon me if I suggest that your opinion of him may be somewhat biased by friendship."
"But of course mamma's opinion isn't biased," remarked Dolores. She shot an angry glance at her mother, and added—"by friendship."
"It would relieve me very much if no more were said about Mr. Blake," said Genevieve.
"We can't—now," snapped Dolores, frowning at the footman who had appeared in the doorway. "Some one must have sighted the right honorable earl in our coupe."
Her irony was justified by the actions of the three young matrons who fluttered in on the breeze of the footman's announcement. They immediately fell into raptures over his lordship, who was forced in self-defence to tug and twist at his mustache and toy with his monocle. At this last Dolores flung herself out of the room in ill-concealed disdain.
She was not to be found when, all too soon, her mother tore the "charming Earl Avondale" away from his chattering adorers. After the worshipful one had been borne off, the dejected trio did not linger long. Their departure was followed by the prompt reappearance of Dolores.