They were all about the age of Jethro
Fawe, but were of a less civilized type, and had semi-barbarism written
all over them. Unlike Jethro they had never known the world of cities.
They repudiated Fleda, because their ambition could not reach to her.
They recognized the touch of fashion and of form, of a worldly education,
of a convention which lifted her away from the tan and the caravan, from
the everlasting itinerary. They had not had Jethro's experiences in
fashionable hotels of Europe, at midnight parties, at gay suppers, at
garish dances, where Gorgio ladies answered the amorous looks of the
ambitious Romany with the fiddle at his chin. Because these young Romanys
knew they dare not aspire, they were resentful; but Jethro, the head of
the rival family and the son of the dead claimant to the headship, had
not such compulsory modesty. He had ranged far and wide, and his
expectations were extensive. He was nowhere to be seen in the groups
which sang and gestured in the light of the many coloured fires, though
once or twice Fleda's quickened ear detected his voice, exulting, in the
chorus of song.
Presently, as she stood watching, listening, and strangely moved in spite
of herself by the sudden dramatic turn which things had taken, a seat was
brought to her.
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