THE BETTER SORT
next day. He spoke as one who had now considered many things.
"Did I understand from you yesterday that Lady Gwyther's a 'child'?"
"Nobody knows. It's prodigious the way she has managed."
"The way Lady Gwyther has———?"
"No; the way May Grantham has kept her till this hour in her pocket."
He was quick at his watch. "Do you mean by 'this hour' that they're due now?"
"Not till tea. All the others arrive together in time for that." Miss Banker had clearly, since the previous day, filled in gaps and become, as it were, revised and enlarged. "She'll have kept a cat from seeing her, so as to produce her entirely herself."
"Well," Sutton mused, "that will have been a very noble sort of return———"
"For Gwyther's behaviour? Very. Yet I feel creepy."
"Creepy?"
"Because so much depends for the girl—in the way of the right start or the wrong start—on the signs and omens of this first appearance. It's a great house and a great occasion, and we're assembled here, it strikes me, very much as the Roman mob at the circus used to be to see the next Christian maiden brought out to the tigers."
"Oh, if she is a Christian maiden———!" Sutton murmured. But he stopped at what his imagination called up.
It perhaps fed that faculty a little that Miss Banker had the effect of making out that Mrs. Grantham might individually be, in any case, something of a Roman matron. "She has kept her in the dark so that we may only take her from her hand. She will have formed her for us."
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