Part 16 (2/2)

”Mr. Cuthcott, is there any chance of things like that changing?”

”Changing?” He certainly had grown paler, and was again lightly thumping the table. ”Changing? By gum! It's got to change! This d--d pluto-aristocratic ideal! The weed's so grown up that it's choking us.

Yes, Miss Freeland, whether from inside or out I don't know yet, but there's a blazing row coming. Things are going to be made new before long.”

Under his thumps the little plates had begun to rattle and leap. And Nedda thought: 'I DO like him.'

But she said anxiously:

”You believe there's something to be done, then? Derek is simply full of it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to.”

His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little whether he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and grasped it.

”I like you,” he said. ”Love your cousin and don't worry.”

Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance.

”But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know.”

”One's always afraid for the fellows that are worth anything. There was another young Freeland at your uncle's the other night--”

”My brother Alan!”

”Oh! your brother? Well, I wasn't afraid for him, and it seemed a pity.

Have some of this; it's about the only thing they do well here.”

”Oh, thank you, no. I've had a lovely lunch. Mother and I generally have about nothing.” And clasping her hands she added:

”This is a secret, isn't it, Mr. Cuthcott?”

”Dead.”

He laughed and his face melted into a ma.s.s of wrinkles. Nedda laughed also and drank up the rest of her wine. She felt blissful.

”Yes,” said Mr. Cuthcott, ”there's nothing like loving. How long have you been at it?”

”Only five days, but it's everything.”

Mr. Cuthcott sighed. ”That's right. When you can't love, the only thing is to hate.”

”Oh!” said Nedda.

Mr. Cuthcott again began banging on the little table. ”Look at them, look at them!” His eyes wandered angrily about the room, wherein sat some few who had pa.s.sed though the mills of gentility. ”What do they know of life? Where are their souls and sympathies? They haven't any.

I'd like to see their blood flow, the silly brutes.”

Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her somewhat like everybody she knew. She said timidly: ”Do you think OUR blood ought to flow, too?”

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