“It does, though,” said Mrs. Lorraine confidently.  “I can tell directly if a gentleman has been accustomed to spend his time in clubs.  When he is surprised or angry or impatient you can perceive blanks in his conversation which in a club, I suppose, would be filled up.  Don’t you know poor old Colonel Hannen’s way of talking, mamma?  This old gentleman, Mr. Ingram, is very fond of speaking to you about political liberty and the rights of conscience; and he generally becomes so confused that he gets vexed with himself, and makes odd pauses, as if he were invariably addressing himself in very rude language indeed.  Sometimes you would think he was like a railway-engine, going blindly and helplessly on through a thick and choking mist; and you can see that if there were no ladies present he would let off a few crackers—­fog-signals, as it were—­just to bring himself up a bit, and let people know where he was.  Then he will go on again, talking away until you fancy yourself in a tunnel, with a throbbing noise in your ears and all the daylight shut out, and you perhaps getting to wish that on the whole you were dead.”

“Cecilia!”

“I beg your pardon, mamma,” said the younger lady with a quiet smile “you look so surprised that Mr. Ingram will give me credit for not often erring in that way.  You look as though a hare had turned and attacked you.”

“That would give most people a fright,” said Ingram with a laugh.  He was rapidly forgetting the object of his mission.  The almost childish softness of voice of this girl, and the perfect composure with which she uttered little sayings that showed considerable sharpness of observation and a keen enjoyment of the grotesque, had an odd sort of fascination for him.  He totally forgot that Lavender had been fascinated by it too.  If he had been reminded of the fact at this moment he would have said that the boy had, as usual, got sentimental about a pretty pair of big gray eyes and a fine profile, while he, Ingram, was possessed by nothing but a purely intellectual admiration of certain fine qualities of wit, sincerity of speech and womanly shrewdness.

Luncheon, indeed, was over before any mention was made of the Lavenders; and when they returned to that subject it appeared to Ingram that their relations had in the mean time got to be very friendly, and that they were really discussing this matter as if they formed a little family conclave.

“I have told Mr. Ingram, mamma,” Mrs. Lorraine said, “that so far as I am concerned I will do whatever he thinks I ought to do.  Mr. Lavender has been a friend of ours for some time, and of course he cannot be treated with rudeness or incivility; but if we are wounding the feelings of any one by asking him to come here—­and he certainly visited us pretty often—­why, it would be easy to lessen the number of his calls.  Is that what we should do, Mr. Ingram?  You would not have us quarrel with him?”

“Especially,” said Mrs. Kavanagh with a smile, “that there is no certainty he will spend more of his time with his wife merely because he spends less of it here.  And yet I fancy he is a very good-natured man.”