“I’m not so sure of that; it takes some time to rub off twenty-one years of the cabin.” “She is not awkward--no, not a bit.” “Except when she spills things over people, and breaks wine-glasses. You don’t think her pretty, surely?” “Yes; very pretty, in an uncommon style.” “A very uncommon style. What a mixture--French, English--reared in Ireland!” “She has some curious ideas.” “Dear me! I had no notion that she had any ideas at all.” “Oh, yes; with regard to shooting, and idle young men, who won’t do a hand’s turn!” “Nonsense! How amusing! You and she must have become delightfully confidential among the laurels! She is a frightful flirt; any one can see that with half an eye.” “Well, I cannot, with two eyes.” “Oh, but you will. Oh, she’ll try her prentice hand--and a red hand it is!--on you, of course!” “How do she and Tito hit it off?” “Pretty well. You know Tito has the temper of an angel; so unselfish and sweet. She and I are running over to Paris to do some shopping for ten days. Any chance of seeing you, Dudley?” “Perhaps. The old place, I suppose?” “Yes; and Joseline and her father will have the house to themselves, and be able to make much of one another.” “He seems immensely devoted,” said Dudley. “Yes. He is full of sentiment, you know. There is, however, one drawback; she is a Catholic.” “Well, I agree with the earl. It is something to be anything in the present day. Personally, I like a woman to have a religion.” “But we all have,” protested the lady. “I suppose you think so. At any rate, you worship the Golden Calf.” “Really, Dudley!” she said, in an offended tone, “you do say the rudest things! Your manners are not improving.” “No, wearing a bit thin. Well, I must run over when you are in Paris, and see if I can’t give them a touch of French polish!” CHAPTER XXVI The small family party had dispersed, and as the days went by without social events, Joseline began seriously and methodically to accustom herself to the routine, and resolute to become at ease in her new life. She was painfully conscious of her ignorance of the ways of people in society. She felt that she shocked Lady Mulgrave ten times a day; and Lady Mulgrave, for all her sweet smiles, had, as she mentally expressed it, “a pick on her.” Yet she was making some progress, and from conversations listened to, she acquired a familiarity with the jargon of her surroundings, and was learning to manipulate just those turns of phrase, best calculated to sustain amiable relations. Joseline was a great reader, and devoured books. With her, this was not a cultivated taste, but a natural appetite. From books, magazines, and reviews, she was learning with avidity, humbly conscious of her own inferiority, and that her father hoped for her to acquire a polish, and to shine.