She was most decidedly a snob, but not of an objectionable kind. As a matter of fact, I have always considered well-bred snobs rather pleasant people, and have often wondered whether they would have been as well bred if they had not been snobs. People who love the pleasantly decorative in life have at least taste, and the preference for titles, fine surroundings and social paraphernalia may be a form of art.
“Do you and Lionel ever see each other in the City?” asked Sibella, who, I had already remarked, was not so much in love that she could refrain from teasing her lover.
“Never,” said Lionel shortly.
“For eighteen months I hardly went near the City,” I answered.
“Doing other things?” asked Lionel, in an unpleasant tone.
“Living on my capital,” I answered airily, giving him a keen, steady glance of daring. “It was the most beautiful time I have ever had, and I don’t regret it. It will never come again, and I might have spent it in a dingy City office.”
“Earning your living,” put in Lionel.
“There was no necessity,” I laughed.
Grahame gazed at Lionel in haughty inquiry as if desirous of knowing what he meant by being rude to his guest.
In fact, Lionel’s airs of intimacy and general at-homeness obviously irritated Grahame not less than the constant use of his Christian name.