Sam Wyndham.
"Oh, I so much wanted to see you, Miss Thorn," said the latter. "I wanted
to tell you how much we like your cousin, Mr. Surbiton. He came today, and
I have asked him to dinner to-morrow."
"Yes?" said Joe, turning a shade paler. "I am so glad you like him. He is
a very nice boy."
"He is perfectly lovely," said Mrs. Sam, enthusiastically. "And he is so
natural, you would not know he was English at all."
"Really?" said Joe, raising her eyebrows a little, but laughing at the
same time.
"Oh my dear," said Mrs. Wyndham, "I always forget you are not one of us.
Besides, you are, you see."
Mrs. Wyndham rarely said a tactless thing, but this evening she was in
such good spirits that she said what came uppermost in her thoughts. Joe
was not offended; she was only bored.
"Will you not come and dine too, to-morrow night?" asked Mrs. Wyndham, who
was anxious to atone.
"Thanks, awfully," said Joe, "but I have to dine with the Aitchisons."
Pocock Vancouver, pale and exquisite as ever, came up to the two ladies.
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