should not contract an alliance with him. I trust he is one of the aristocracy. He has all the appearance of it, I must say. It might be a most brilliant marriage for Sibyl. They would make a charming couple. His good looks are really quite remarkable; everybody notices them.”
The lad muttered something to himself and drummed on the windowpane with his coarse fingers. He had just turned round to say something when the door opened and Sibyl ran in.
“How serious you both are!” she cried. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “I suppose one must be serious sometimes. Goodbye, Mother; I will have my dinner at five o’clock. Everything is packed, except my shirts, so you need not trouble.”
“Goodbye, my son,” she answered with a bow of strained stateliness.
She was extremely annoyed at the tone he had adopted with her, and there was something in his look that had made her feel afraid.
“Kiss me, Mother,” said the girl. Her flowerlike lips touched the withered cheek and warmed its frost.
“My child! my child!” cried Mrs. Vane, looking up to the ceiling in search of an imaginary gallery.
“Come, Sibyl,” said her brother impatiently. He hated his mother’s affectations.
They went out into the flickering, windblown sunlight and strolled down the dreary Euston Road. The passersby glanced in wonder at the sullen heavy youth who, in coarse, ill-fitting clothes, was in the company of such a graceful, refined-looking girl. He was like a common gardener walking with a rose.