136 The Real Charlotte, 



my face ever since that evening, we were all kept out so 

 late." 



" Oh, my ! That neuralgia's a horrid thing," said Francie 

 sympathetically. " I didn't get any harm out of it with all 

 the wetting and the knock on my head and everything. I 

 thought it was lovely fun ! But " — forgetting her shyness in 

 the interest of the moment — " Mr. Hawkins told me that 

 Cursiter said to him the world wouldn't get him to take out 

 ladies in his boat again ! " 



Miss Hope-Drummond raised her dark eyebrows. 



"Really? That is very crushing of Captain Cursiter." 



Francie felt in a moment an emphasis on the word 

 Captain ; but tried to ignore her own confusion. 



" It doesn't crush me, I can tell you ! I wouldn't give a 

 pin to go in his old boat. I'd twice sooner go in a yacht, 

 upsets and all 1 " 



^^Oh!" 



Miss Hope-Drummond said no more than this, but her 

 tone was sufficient. Her eyes strayed towards the book 

 that lay in her lap, and the finger inserted in its pages 

 showed, as if unconsciously, a tendency to open it again. 



There was another silence, during which Francie studied 

 the dark and unintelligible oil-paintings on the expanses of 

 wall, the flowers, arranged with such easy and careless 

 lavishness in strange and innumerable jars and vases ; and 

 lastly, Dinah, in a distant window, catching and eating flies 

 with disgusting avidity. She felt as if her petticoats showed 

 her boots more than was desirable, that her gloves were of 

 too brilliant a tint, and that she ought to have left her 

 umbrella in the hall. At this painful stage of her reflections 

 she heard Lady Dysart's incautious voice outside : 



" It's always the way with Christopher ; he digs a hole 

 and buries himself in it whenever he's wanted. Take her 

 out and let her eat strawberries now ; and then in the 

 afternoon — " the voice suddenly sank as if in response to 

 an admonition, and Francie's already faint heart sank along 

 with it. Oh, to be at the Hemphills, making toffee on the 

 parlour fire, remote from the glories and sufferings of 

 aristocratic houses I The next moment she was shaking 

 hands with Pamela, and becoming gradually aware that she 

 was in an atmosphere of ease and friendliness, much as the 



