Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/331

Consort. She had always been rather spoilt—“though so sweet,” they added hastily—and this boy was hardly likely to be tactful in the using of his new resources. Apparently he had never had anything of his own before, and one could not wonder if the Trent money went to his head. Which might grate on Pamela, poor child. . . .

They need not have worried. That first house-party, trying to all concerned, went off very well, and Pamela and Tony even got some pleasure out of it from admiring each other at a distance. Trent Stoke made a perfect setting for Pamela—Tony could have watched her all day, if it had not been for the guests. They were rather in the way! But a necessary evil, no doubt. He took a malicious pleasure in being exquisitely courteous and at his ease, since he knew it was not expected of him. Moreover, his hard self-assurance was mellowed in this new atmosphere. With Trent Stoke at his back, grey stone, tinted with gold lichen that made it look as if sunshine always lingered there, there was no need to keep oneself ready to spring, as it were. The struggle for life went on outside. In here there were things soft and smooth and beautiful—and, by a miracle, all his. And Pamela’s. And they were each other’s. It was no wonder that Tony found it easy to be pleasant at this time.

He did not love most of his new relations, Archie Brackenridge being an exception. He was too indifferent to be rubbed up by them, only Aunt Sophia had the power of irritating him to madness. As he observed to Pamela, it didn’t seem worth while to be polite to her when rudeness pleased her better, and she just loved being rude to him.

“Why should I be polite? | She’s even rude to you. She’s a detestable woman.”

“Oh, Tony dear, she was very good to me. She brought me up, and———”

“I don’t believe she was good to you,” he said obstinately. “Somebody had to bring you up, and—she wasn’t