"No, no!--he
knows," said Cliffe, with impatience. "The others don't.
Parham is more impossible--more crassly, grossly ignorant!" He lifted
hands and eyes in protest. "But Ashe, of course, is another matter
altogether."
"Well, go and see him--go and talk to him!" said Lady Tranmore, still
mocking. "There are no lions in the way."
"None," said Cliffe. "As a matter of fact, Lady Kitty has asked me to
luncheon. But does one find Ashe himself in the middle of the day?"
At the mention of her daughter-in-law Elizabeth made an involuntary
movement. Mary, standing beside her, turned towards her and smiled.
"Not often." The tone was cold. "But you could always find him at the
House." And Lady Tranmore moved away.
"Is there a quiet corner anywhere?" said Cliffe to Mary. "I have such
heaps to tell you."
So while some Polish gentleman in the main drawing-room, whose name
ended in
ski, challenged his violin to the impossible, Cliffe and Mary
retired from observation into a small room thrown open with the rest of
the suite, which was in truth the morning-room of the ambassadress.
As soon as they found themselves alone, there was a pause in their
conversation; each involuntarily looked at the other.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215