It seemed that Byron, after all, was something of a courtier; for he
displayed great astonishment at this feat. "The Australian
champion!" he repeated. "And who may HE--Oh! you mean the
lawn-tennis champion. To be sure. Well, Miss Goff, I congratulate
you. It is not every amateur that can brag of having shown a
professional to a back seat."
Alice, outraged by the imputation of bragging, and certain that
slang was vulgar, whatever billiards might be, bore herself still
more loftily, and resolved to snub him explicitly if he addressed
her again. But he did not; for they presently came to a narrow iron
gate in the wall of the park, at which Lydia stopped.
"Let me open it for you," said Cashel. She gave him the key, and he
seized one of the bars of the gate with his left hand, and stooped
as though he wanted to look into the keyhole. Yet he opened it
smartly enough.
Alice was about to pass in with a cool bow when she saw Miss Carew
offer Cashel her hand. Whatever Lydia did was done so well that it
seemed the right thing to do. He took it timidly and gave it a
little shake, not daring to meet her eyes. Alice put out her hand
stiffly. Cashel immediately stepped forward with his right foot and
enveloped her fingers with the hardest clump of knuckles she had
ever felt. Glancing down at this remarkable fist, she saw that it
was discolored almost to blackness. Then she went in through the
gate, followed by Lydia, who turned to close it behind her. As she
pushed, Cashel, standing outside, grasped a bar and pulled. She at
once relinquished to him the labor of shutting the gate, and smiled
her thanks as she turned away; but in that moment he plucked up
courage to look at her. The sensation of being so looked at was
quite novel to her and very curious. She was even a little out of
countenance, but not so much so as Cashel, who nevertheless could
not take his eyes away.
"Do you think," said Alice, as they crossed the orchard, "that that
man is a gentleman?"
"How can I possibly tell? We hardly know him."
"But what do you think? There is always a certain something about a
gentleman that one recognizes by instinct."
"Is there? I have never observed it."
"Have you not?" said Alice, surprised, and beginning uneasily to
fear that her superior perception of gentility was in some way the
effect of her social inferiority to Miss Carew. "I thought one could
always tell."