“And I like Sophy best. She has no nonsense about her; she is so frank and so simple. Which is Everard for? On the whole, there is no doubt about it, English girls have a something, a je ne sais quoi--” “I can’t give any opinion,” said Everard laughing. “After your visit to the Hatch you will be able to decide. And have you thought what Aunt Susan will say, within the first week, almost before you have been seen at home?” “By Jove! I forgot Aunt Susan!” cried Herbert with a sudden pause; then he laughed, trying to feel the exquisite fun of asking Aunt Susan’s permission, while they were so independent of her; but this scarcely answered just at first. “Of course,” he added, with an attempt at self-assertion, “one cannot go on consulting Aunt Susan’s opinion forever.” “But the first week!” Everard had all the delight of mischief in making them feel the subordination in which they still stood in spite of themselves. He went on laughing. “I would not say anything about it to-night. She is not half pleased with Madame Jean, as they call her. I hope Madame Jean has been getting it hot. Everything went off perfectly well by a miracle, but that woman as nearly spoiled it by her nonsense and her boy--” “Whom do you call that woman?” said Herbert coldly. “I think Madame Jean did just what a warm-hearted person would do. She did not wait for mere ceremony or congratulations prearranged. For my part,” said Herbert stiffly, “I never admired any one so much. She is the most beautiful, glorious creature!” “There was no one there so pretty,” said innocent Reine. “Pretty! she is not pretty: she is splendid! she is beautiful! By Jove! to see her with her arm raised, and that child on her shoulder--it’s like a picture! If you will laugh,” said Herbert pettishly, “don’t laugh in that offensive way! What have they done to you, and why are you so disagreeable to-night?” “Am I disagreeable?” said Everard laughing again. It was all he could do to keep from being angry, and he felt this was the safest way. “Perhaps it is that I am more enlightened than you youngsters. However beautiful a woman may be (and I don’t deny she’s very handsome), I can see when she’s playing a part.” “What part is she playing?” cried Herbert hotly. Reine was half frightened by his vehemence, and provoked as he was by Everard’s disdainful tone; but she pressed her brother’s arm to restrain him, fearful of a quarrel, as girls are so apt to be. “I suppose you will say we are all playing our parts; and so we are,” said Reine. “Bertie, you have been the hero to-night, and we are all your satellites for the moment. Come in quick, it feels chilly. I don’t suppose even Everard would say Sophy was playing a part, except her natural one,” she added with a laugh.