Mother dear, here is Miss Falbe." Lady Ashbridge was pathetically eager to be what she called "good." Michael had made it clear to her that it was his wish that Miss Falbe should not be embarrassed, and any wish just now expressed by Michael was of the nature of a divine command to her.
"Well, this is a pleasure," she said, looking across to Michael with the eyes of a dog on a beloved master.

"And we are not strangers quite, are we, Miss Falbe?
We sat so near each other to listen to your brother, who I am sure plays beautifully, and the music which Michael made.

Haven't I got a clever son, and such a good one ?" Sylvia was unerring.

Michael had known she would be.
"Indeed, you have," she said, sitting down by her.

"And Michael mustn't hear what we say about him, must he, or he'll be getting conceited." Lady Ashbridge laughed.
"And that would never do, would it ?" she said, still retaining Sylvia's hand.