"I think you felt some. But I knew when you saw him it would go. He's got one beautiful quality that's very rare in these days, I think—reverence. I love that in him. He really reverences everything that is fine, every one who has fine and noble aspirations and powers. He reverences you."
"If that is the case he shows very little insight."
"Don't abuse yourself to me to-night. There's nothing the matter now, is there?"
Her intonation demanded a negative, but Artois did not hasten to give it. Instead he turned the conversation once more to Delarey.
"Tell me something more about him," he said. "What sort of family does he come from?"
"Oh, a very ordinary family, well off, but not what is called specially well-born. His father has a large shipping business. He's a cultivated man, and went to Eton and Oxford, as Maurice did. Maurice's mother is very handsome, not at all intellectual, but fascinating. The Southern blood comes from her side."
"Oh—how?"
"Her mother was a Sicilian."
"Of the aristocracy, or of the people?"
"She was a lovely contadina. But what does it matter? I am not marrying Maurice's grandmother."