"I'm sorry for him, aunt, and—and I thought it only civil to ask him to call——"
Miss Waller's brow contracted. "I think you might have consulted me first. At best he is only a detrimental, and there are far too many here already; but you always were quixotic, May!"
CHAPTER IV.
Lulu.
Whit Sunday—which was late that year—was simply glorious, the heat being tempered by a delicious sea breeze. A vivacious, dark-eyed girl, who accompanied Harold Inglis along the parade after morning service, stopped again and again to gloat over the sapphire sea, tumbling in, foam-crested. "How jolly for you, Harold, living in this delicious place!" she exclaimed. "You ought to look better than you do; you are much thinner than you were."
He evaded the subject, not wishing to sadden his favourite sister, Lulu, with his shifts and privations. She had come down to Beachbourne to spend Whitsuntide with her brother, glad to escape from the stuffy London office in which she had to work hard for a living.
"Oh, Harold! who are these smart people coming along?"
They had already passed many well-dressed groups of residents, but none presenting so imposing an appearance collectively as did stately Miss Waller, in heliotrope, May Burnside, in an exquisite costume of pale grey silk and chiffon, Doris, a vision of childish prettiness in white muslin, and two or three equally well-dressed men, conspicuous amongst whom was Mr. Lang. Harold's colour rose as he lifted his hat, whilst Lulu eagerly exclaimed, "Oh! who is that pretty girl in grey? She looks quite fit for the Park!"
He explained, secretly glad that his sister should admire his divinity; but it was fortunate he could not hear what Miss Waller was meanwhile saying to her niece: "Who is that common-looking girl with Dr. Inglis? She is most atrociously dressed."