Ashe, lounging and smoking, at first knew nothing, had heard
of nothing, as usual. Then a comment or correction dropped out; Cliffe
repeated himself vehemently--only to provoke another. Presently, no one
knew how, the two men were measured against each other
corps a
corps--the wide knowledge and trained experience of the minister
against the originality, the force, the fantastic imagination of the
writer.
The Dean watched it with delight. He was very fond of Ashe, and liked to
see him getting the better of "the newspaper fellow." Kitty's lovely
brown eyes travelled from one to the other. Now it seemed to the Dean
that she was proud of Ashe, now that she sympathized with Cliffe. Soon,
however, like the god at Philippi, she swept upon the poet and bore him
from the field.
"Not a word more politics!" she said, peremptorily, to Ashe, holding up
her hand. "
I want to talk to Mr. Cliffe about the ball."
Cliffe was not very ready to obey. He had an angry sense of having been
somehow shown to disadvantage, and would like to have challenged his
host again. But Kitty poured balm into his wounds. She drew him apart a
little, using the play of her beautiful eyes for him only, and talking
to him in a new voice of deference.
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