Part 8 (1/2)
”Ah! What is it?”
”Fay. Her name is Minnie Fay.”
”Minnie Fay. I never heard of the name before. Who are her people?”
”She is traveling with Lady Dalrymple.”
”The Dowager, I suppose?”
”Yes.”
”Who are the other ladies?”
”Well, I don't exactly remember.”
”Didn't you find out?”
”Yes; I heard all their names, but I've forgotten. I know one of them is the child-angel's sister, and the other is her cousin. The one I saw with her was probably the sister.”
”What, the one named Ethel?”
”Yes.”
”Ethel--Ethel Fay. H'm,” said Hawbury, in a tone of disappointment. ”I knew it would be so. There are so many Ethels about.”
”What's that?”
”Oh, nothing. I once knew a girl named Ethel, and--Well, I had a faint idea that it would be odd if this should be the one. But there's no such chance.”
”Oh, the name Ethel is common enough.”
”Well, and didn't you find out any thing about her people?”
”Whose--Ethel's?”
”Your child-angel's people.”
”No. What do I care about her people? They might be Jews or Patagonians for all I care.”
”Still I should think your interest in her would make you ask.”
”Oh no; my interest refers to herself, not to her relatives. Her sister Ethel is certainly a deuced pretty girl, though.”
”Sconey, my boy, I'm afraid you're getting demoralized. Why, I remember the time when you regarded the whole female race with a lofty scorn and a profound indifference that was a perpetual rebuke to more inflammable natures. But now what a change! Here you are, with a finely developed eye for female beauty, actually reveling in dreams of child-angels and their sisters. By Jove!”
”Nonsense,” said Dacres.
”Well, drive on, and tell all about it. You've seen her, of course?”
”Oh yes.”