Part 41 (2/2)

”I don't imagine that's what put him off,” said Sir John. ”He knew something.”

”What do you suppose he knew?”

”Something the Benhams told them, I fancy. They'd some queer story.

Rather think she ran after d.i.c.ky, and Mrs. Benham didn't like it.”

”Don't know what she wanted with him. Couldn't have been in love with him, I will say that for her.”

”Well, she seems to have preferred their bungalow to her own. Anyhow, they couldn't get her out of it.”

”I don't believe that story. We must be fair to the woman, Corbett.”

He thought he had really done it very well. Not only had he accounted honourably for his repulse, but he had cleared Elise. And he had cleared himself from the ghastly imputation of middle-age. Repulse or no repulse, he was proud of his spurt of youthful pa.s.sion.

And in another minute he had persuaded himself that his main motive had been the desire to be fair to Elise.

”H'm! I don't know about being fair,” said Sir John. ”Anyhow, I congratulate you on your lucky escape.”

Mr. Waddington rose to go. ”Of course--about what I told you--you won't let it go any further?”

Sir John laughed out loud. ”Of course I won't. Only wanted to know how far _you_ went. Might have gone farther and fared worse, what?”

He rose, too, laughing. ”If anybody tries to pump me I shall say you behaved very well. So you did, my dear fellow, so you did. Considering the provocation.”

He could afford to laugh. He had got it out of poor old Waddington, as he said he would. But to the eternal honour of Sir John Corbett, it did not go any further. When people tried to get it out of him he simply said that there was nothing in it, and that to his certain knowledge Waddington had behaved very well. As Barbara had prophesied, n.o.body believed that he had behaved otherwise. It was not for nothing that he was Mr. Waddington of Wyck.

And in consequence of the revelations she had made to her friend, Miss Gregg, very early in the New Year Elise found other doors closed to her besides the Markhams' and the Waddingtons'. And behind the doors on each side of the White House respectable householders could sleep in their beds on Friday nights without fear of being wakened by the opening and shutting of Mrs. Levitt's door and by the shrill ”Good nights” called out from its threshold and answered up the street The merry bridge parties and the little suppers were no more.

Even the Rector's geniality grew more and more Christian and perfunctory, till he too left off stopping to talk to Mrs. Levitt when he met her in the street.

3

Mr. Waddington's confession to Sir John was about the only statement relating to the Waddington affair which did not go any further. Thus a very curious and interesting report of it reached Ralph Bevan through Colonel Grainger, when he heard for the first time of the part Barbara had played in it.

In the story Elise had told in strict confidence to Miss Gregg, Mr.

Waddington had been deadly afraid of her and had beaten a cowardly retreat behind Barbara's big guns. Not that either Elise or Miss Gregg would have admitted for one moment that her guns were big; Colonel Grainger had merely inferred the deadliness of her fire from the demoralization of the enemy.

”Your little lady, Bevan,” he said, ”seems to have come off best in that encounter.”

”We needn't worry any more about the compact, Barbara, now I know about it,” Ralph said, as they walked together. Snow had fallen. The Cotswolds were all white, netted with the purplish brown filigree-work of the trees. Their feet went crunching through the furry crystals of the snow.

”No. That's one good thing she's done.”

”Was it very funny, your sc.r.a.p?”

”It seemed funnier at the time than it did afterwards. It was really rather beastly. f.a.n.n.y didn't like it.”

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