"Hang Verinder and his money. I'm no end glad you can't stand him. Fact is, we didn't quite know how bad he was when we asked him to join us."
"What then?"
"Well, sure your money isn't on the wrong horse, Moya? Mind, I don't say it is. I ask."
"If you mean Mr. Kilmeny, there hasn't been a word between us you couldn't have heard yourself," the girl told him stiffly.
"If my memory serves it didn't use to be so much a matter of words. What about your feelings? Di fancies——"
"Of course she does. She's always fancying. That's the business of a chaperone. It's perfectly absurd," Moya flung back hotly.
"Glad you see it that way. It wouldn't do, of course."
She looked directly at him, a challenge in her stormy eyes. "The whole thing is ridiculous. The man hasn't given me a second thought. If you're going to warn anyone, it ought to be Joyce."
Lord Farquhar looked straight at her. "Joyce has her eyes wide open. She can look out for herself."
"And I can't?"