They neither of the
noticed the somewhat ominous air of civility with which he received
their greetings, or the contempt in his eyes as he looked them
silently over.
"Where are the lost tribe?" he inquired, as the girls, one on
either side, escorted him to the house.
They received his witticism with a piercing shriek of laughter.
"Mamma and her rag of a daughter are in the drawing room," explained
Miss Montressor - the young lady with fluffy hair who dressed in
blue and could dance. "Such a joke, General! They don't approve
of us! Mamma says that she shall have to take her Julie away if we
remain. We are not fit associates for her. Rich, isn't it! The
old chap's screwing up his courage now with brandy and soda to tell
you so!
Trent laughed heartily. The situation began to appeal to him.
There was humour in it which he alone could appreciate.
"Does he expect me to send you away?" he asked.
"That's a cert!" Miss Montressor affirmed. "The old woman's been
playing the respectable all day, turning up the whites of her eyes
at me because I did a high kick in the hall, and groaning at Flossie
because she had a few brandies; ain't that so, Flossie?"
The young lady with yellow hair confirmed the statement with much
dignity.
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