The Argosy — page 279: what you’re looking at

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260 A Lady’s Pnvilege. be roused by the butler whenever he comes round. Did you ever see anyone,” she rattled on, ‘“‘so changed for the worse as poor Ethel ? She is positively plain. ‘They’ve asked young Broadacres on purpose for her, but I fancy he wishes himself anywhere else. People say she has a penchant for the new curate, but of course that would never do. Is this your first visit to Belford ?” “Ves,” replied Trevor. ‘But tell me, Mrs. Beresford, as you are less a stranger here than I am, who is that man sitting by Miss Courtenay ? ” “Don’t you know? That’s Travers, Captain Travers of the ‘Blues.’ Very attentive, is he not? Follows her about everywhere. He might do worse, for, by all accounts, twelve hundred a-year would be a godsend to him. But, somehow or other, I doubt its coming ro) Oe 66 Why P 9 ‘“ Because the love-making seems to be all on one side, and Sybil’s a girl who knows how to keep her own counsel.” At this juncture, old Lady Totterly was with difficulty awakened to a comprehension of her hostess’s repeated signals, and was at length carefully marshalled into the drawing-room. Left to themselves, the men congregated together at the head of the table ; and Long Odds, who, having been wedged in during dinner between the prim Lady Hawbuck, as monosyllabic as her husband, and Miss Blake, an elderly spinster as blind as a beetle and as deaf as a post, had experienced, as he whispered to Jack, ‘‘anything but a rosy time of it,” avowed his intention of squaring matters by punishing old Pem- berton’s Larose. “We ought to have good sport with the longtails to-morrow,” said the Admiral, filling his glass with the nectar in question, and passing the jug on to Noland, ‘‘for I’ve kept the home copse on purpose, and can promise anyone who likes it, a ‘warm’ corner.” ‘Sorry I shall not be able to accompany you,” observed Travers. ‘““T have some letters of importance to write, which will occupy me all the morning.” ‘The pheasants will be the gainers by your absence,” courteously remarked his host, ‘and our bags the losers. But at any rate you will join us after luncheon ?” ‘Certainly, if I can,” assented the Captain, and a minute or two later, quietly left the room. ‘Do you believe in those letters, Jack?” said the Honourable Walter, in a low tone, to his friend. ‘I don’t.” “Nor I,” curtly replied Trevor. When they at length adjourned to the drawing-room, Sybil, seated at’ the piano, and attended as usual by the inevitable Travers, was lightly fingering a dreamy melody of Schubert, which, on her uncle’s appearance, she exchanged for his favourite hunting song, “John Peel.” Old Lady Totterly was fast asleep in her arm-chair ; Gomicbooks.co