They were interrupted by the arrival of the man of whom they had spoken,
Constantine Blair. He came with important and, as he clearly considered,
disquieting news for Quisante. Sir Winterton Mildmay, one of the richest
landowners near Henstead, who had been at loggerheads with his party,
had made up the quarrel and consented to stand in opposition to
Quisante. "I thought the sooner your husband knew the better," said
Constantine with a very grave face. "It makes a difference, you see. We
only beat young Fortescue, a stranger in the town, by two hundred, and
they had four hundred the time before." He paused and added, "Lady
Mildmay's very much liked in the town."
"Come, Blair, I'm sure we shan't be worse off in that respect anyhow,"
said Marchmont, laughing.
"Oh, I've nothing to do with you, I've given you up," cried Blair,
twisting his good-humoured face into a fierce scowl. "He's a man with
convictions, Lady May; he's no sort of use to me."
Blair had convictions himself, but he and everybody else took them so
much for granted that they might almost as well not have existed; they
were polite convictions too, ready to give place not only to one another
but even to circumstances, and waiting quite patiently their turn to be
realised.
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