That was what he had expected.
* * * * *
"I hear you are an Archangel, Lady Kitty," said the Dean, who, having
obstinately outstayed all the other guests, had now settled his small
person and his thin legs into a chair beside his hostess with a view to
five agreeable minutes. He was the most harmless of social epicures, was
the Dean, and he felt that Lady Kitty had defrauded him at lunch in
favor of that great, ruffling, Byronic fellow Cliffe, who ought to have
better taste than to come lunching with the Ashes.
"Am I?" said Kitty, who had thrown herself into the corner of a sofa,
and sat curled up there in an attitude which the Dean thought charming,
though it would not, he was aware, "have become Mrs. Winston.
"Well, you know best," said the Dean. "But, at any rate, be good and
explain to me what is an Archangel."
"Somebody whom most men and all women dislike," said Kitty, promptly.
"Yet they seem to be numerous," remarked the Dean.
"Not at all!" cried Kitty, with an air of offence; "not at all! If they
were numerous they would, of course, be popular."
"And in fact they are rare--and detested? What other characteristics
have they?"
"Courage," said Kitty, looking up.
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