"Well, that doesn't endear her to me," said Oldmeadow. "And I don't like Americans."
"Come, you're not quite so hide-bound as all that," said Barney, vexed. "What about Mrs. Aldesey? I've heard you say she's the most charming woman you know."
"No one could call Nancy a charming woman," said Barney, looking a little more vexed. "She's a dear, of course; but she's a mere girl. What do you know about Americans, anyway--except Mrs. Aldesey?"
"What she tells me about them--the ones she doesn't know," said Oldmeadow, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. "But I own that I'm merely prejudiced. Tell me about your young lady, and why you want her to have something to do with me. Is she a reformer of some sort?"
"She's a wonderful person, really," said Barney, availing himself with eagerness of his opportunity. "Not a reformer. Only a sort of mixture of saint and fairy-princess. She cured Charlie Lumley of insomnia, three years ago, at Saint Moritz. Nothing psychic or theatrical, you know. Just sat by him and smiled--she's a most extraordinary smile--and laid her hand on his head. He'd not slept for nights and went off like a lamb. Lady Lumley almost cries when she tells about it. They thought Charlie might lose his mind if he went on not sleeping."
"My word! She's a Christian Science lady? A medium? What?"
"Call her what you like. You'll see. She does believe in spiritual forces. It's not only that. She's quite lovely. In every way. Nancy and Meg will worship her. The Lumley girls do."
Oldmeadow's thoughts were already dwelling in rueful surmise on Nancy. He had always thought her the nicest young creature he had ever known, nicer even than Barney; and he had always wanted them to marry. She was Barney's second cousin, and she and her mother lived near the Chadwicks in Gloucestershire.
"Oh, Nancy will worship her, will she? She must be all right, then. What's her name?" he asked.
Barney had given up trying to be desultory, and his conscious firmness was now not lost upon his friend as he answered, stammering a little, "Adrienne. Adrienne Toner."
"Why Adrienne?" Oldmeadow mildly inquired. "Has she French blood?"
"Not that I know of. It's a pretty name, I think, Adrienne. One hears more inane names given to girls every day. Her mother loved France--just as you do, Roger. Adrienne was born in Paris, I think."