‘I am, as it were,’ she concluded, ‘the chaperon of my young cousin, Lucy, and it would be a serious thing if I put her under an obligation to people of whom we know nothing. His manner was somewhat unfortunate. I hope I acted for the best.’
‘You acted very naturally,’ said he. He seemed thoughtful, and after a few moments added: ‘All the same, I don't think much harm would have come of accepting.’
‘No harm, of course. But we could not be under an obligation.’
‘He is rather a peculiar man.’ Again he hesitated, and then said gently: ‘I think he would not take advantage of your acceptance, nor expect you to show gratitude. He has the merit—if it is one—of saying exactly what he means. He has rooms he does not value, and he thinks you would value them. He no more thought of putting you under an obligation than he thought of being polite. It is so difficult—at least, I find it difficult—to
understand people who speak the truth.’