“Her reputation!”
Hugh thought she was going to be angry. She stared at him a moment, then suddenly said: “Oh you funny boy! You nice boy! I like you so much for that. But ... I do believe you’re jealous of Paul Vulning.”
“Why should I be?”
“Because he’s so like you. You’ve got the same regular features, the same fair hair. You’re both tall and rather slight. But you needn’t resent all that. Paul is a rather soiled man of the world; you are a nice clean boy who might be fresh from Oxford.”
She looked at him thoughtfully.
“I’d like to keep you as you are, but it might be better for yourself if you were a little more sophisticated. I have half a mind to take you in hand, to educate you in the ways of the world. May I?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“No, I didn’t think you would. You are a little—may I say it?—naïve sometimes.... I say, don’t you admire my new blouse? I just got it this morning. The embroidery’s so pretty, I think.”
Something in the design struck Hugh as familiar. Yes, it was the work he had seen Margot sitting up so late to finish.
“You look so serious. Don’t you like it?”