Altogether this product of city culture was an
eye-opener to the simple folks of Billabong.
Of Norah, Cecil took very little notice. She was evidently a being
quite beneath his attention--he was secretly amused at the way in which
she presided at her end of the table, and decided in his own mind that
his mother's views had been correct, and that this small girl would be
all the better for a little judicious snubbing. So he ignored her in
his conversation, and if she made a remark contrived to infuse a faint
shade of patronage into his reply. It is possible that his amazement
would have been great had he known how profoundly his uncle longed to
kick him.
Dinner over, Norah fled to Brownie, and to that sympathetic soul
unburdened her woes. Mr. Linton and his nephew retired to the verandah,
where the former preferred to smoke in summer. He smiled a little at
the elaborate cigarette case Cecil drew out, but lit his pipe without
comment, reflecting inwardly that although cigarettes were scarcely the
treatment, though they might be the cause, of a pasty face and a
"nervous breakdown," it was none of his business to interfere with a
young gentleman who evidently considered himself a man of the world. So
they smoked and talked, and when, after a little while, Cecil confessed
himself tired, and went off to bed, he left behind him a completely
bored and rather annoyed squatter.
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