Colonel Ormonde glanced at them from time to time; he was amazed and
indignant that Mrs. Liddell could attend to any one save himself. He was
rather unfortunately placed between Miss Burnett, whose attention was
taken up by Sir Ralph Brereton, a marriageable baronet, who sat on her
other side, and Lady Alice Mordaunt, a timid, colorless, but graceful
girl, still in the school-room, who scarcely spoke at all, and if she
did, always to her right-hand neighbor, a stately-looking man with grave
dark eyes, which saved him from being plain, and a clear colorless brown
complexion. He said very little, but his voice, though rather cold, was
pleasant and refined, conveying the impression that he was accustomed to
be heard with attention. He too was very attentive to Lady Alice, but in
a kind, fatherly way, as if she were a helpless creature under his care.

"I believe we are quite an Indian party," said Mrs. Burnett, looking
down the table. "Of course my children are Indian by inheritance; then
there are Mr. Kirby and Mr. Errington"--nodding to the dark man next
Lady Alice--"and Colonel Ormonde."

"I am not Indian, you know; I was only quartered in India for a few
years," returned Ormonde, contradictiously.

"And I was only a visitor for one season's tiger-shooting," said
Brereton.

"And I do not want to go," cried Tom Burnett; "I want to be an attache."

"Oh yes; you speak so many languages!" said his younger sister.

"I certainly do not consider myself an old Indian," said the man