CHAPTER XXVII
THE VICIOUSNESS OF NICE THINGS
"What did you think of my nice Daggett boy?" Claire demanded of Eva Gilson, the moment bruncheon was over.
"Which one was—— Oh, the boy you met on the road? Why, really, I didn't notice him particularly. I'd rather fancied from the way you referred to him that he was awfully jolly and forceful, but rather crude. But I didn't notice him at all. He seemed perfectly well-bred, but slightly heavy."
"No, he isn't that—— He—— Why did you lead spades?" reflected Claire.
They were in the drawing-room, resting after the tact and tumult of the bruncheon. Claire had been here long enough now for the Gilsons to forget her comfortably, and be affectionate and quarrelsome and natural, and to admit by their worrying that even in their exalted social position there were things to fuss about.
"I do think we ought to have invited Belle Torrens," fretted Mrs. Gilson. "We've simply got to have her here soon."
Mr. Gilson speculated intensely, "But she's the dullest soul on earth, and her husband spends all his spare time in trying to think up ways of doing me dirt in business. Oh, by the way, did you get the water tap in the blue room fixed? It's dripping all the time."
"No, I forgot it."
"Well, I do wish you'd have it attended to. It simply drips all the time."