Part 17 (1/2)
”How should I know, Sir John? It must have been politics.”
”They wouldn't talk politics here--and, if they did, Medland would not quarrel about them.”
”Did you hear what he said, Chief Justice?” asked c.o.xon.
”Yes, I heard.”
”Curious, isn't it?”
”It's most tantalisingly curious,” said Sir John.
”But, all the same, we mustn't forget the flowers,” remarked Alicia, with affected gaiety.
They moved on, and the onlookers, still canva.s.sing the incident, scattered their various ways.
It was c.o.xon who told Lady Eynesford about it afterwards, and her comment to the Governor that evening at dinner was,
”There, Willie! Didn't I tell you something horrid would come of having those people?”
No one answered her. The Governor knew better than to encourage a discussion. d.i.c.k swore softly under his breath at c.o.xon, and Alicia began to criticise Lady Perry's costume. Lady Eynesford followed up her triumph.
”I hope all you Medlandites are satisfied now,” she said.
And Lady Eynesford was not the only person who found some satisfaction in this unfortunate incident, for when Daisy told Norburn about it, he remarked, with an extraordinary want of reason,
”I knew you'd be sorry you went.”
”I'm not at all sorry,” protested Daisy. ”But why was father angry?”
”I'm sure I don't know. Didn't he tell you?”
”No.”
”Oh, I recollect. This Benham has been worrying him about some appointment.”
”That doesn't account for his saying that he had as good a right as anybody to talk to me. I don't understand it.”
”Well, neither do I. But you would go.”
”Really, you're too absurd,” said Daisy pettishly.
And poor Norburn knew that he was very absurd, and yet could not help being very absurd, although he despised himself for it.
The real truth was that Daisy had told him that, except for this one occurrence, she had had a most charming afternoon, and that d.i.c.k Derosne had been kindness itself.
This was enough to make even a rising statesman angry, and, when angry, absurd.
CHAPTER XI.
A CONSCIENTIOUS MAN'S CONSCIENCE.