‘A letter from his father, without a doubt,’ muttered Lady Renshaw. ‘Probably the one containing Sir William’s final decision.’
Clarice had crossed to the window to speak to Miss Wynter. Suddenly she gave a little start. ‘Why, I declare there’s Archie over yonder, talking to that young curate whom we saw this afternoon. They seem to be acquainted. And now they are coming this way.’
‘Good gracious! Dick coming here!’ exclaimed Miss Wynter under her breath.
Archie Ridsdale entered the sitting-room from the veranda, followed—bashfully—by Mr Richard Dulcimer, otherwise Mr Golightly.
‘Ladies all,’ began Archie, ‘allow me to introduce to you my old friend and college chum, Dick Golightly—one of the best of fellows when you come to know him, but, like the snail, of a most retiring disposition—one of those people, in fact, whom it takes a deal of persuasion to coax out of their shell.—Golightly, don’t blush, there’s a dear boy; the ladies won’t eat you.—Madame De Vigne—Miss Gaisford—Miss Loraine. You will know them all better by-and-by.—Now don’t, for goodness’ sake, be a snail.’—Then turning, he exclaimed with a well-feigned start: ‘Ah! Lady Renshaw, as I live!’ and with that he held out his hand, which her ladyship grasped with much cordiality.
‘This is indeed an unlooked-for pleasure,’ he went on. ‘I never see your ladyship without being reminded of what the poet says: “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.”’
‘Fie, you naughty boy’—tapping him with her fan—‘you are not a bit improved since I saw you last.’
‘Allow me,’ continued Archie. ‘My friend, Mr Golightly—Lady Renshaw.’
‘I think that I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr Golightly before—for a few minutes on the lawn this afternoon.’
Richard murmured something inaudible in reply. He was twisting his hat between his fingers, and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. He tried his hardest to call up a blush, but failed ignominiously.