Yet what did the man know, what could he do? And though
Dick Benyon winced at his darts, and Jimmy grew a little sulky, May
herself seemed unconscious of them. She was ready to meet him in talk
about her husband and her husband's plans; she laughed at his jibes in
all the apparent security of a happy confidence. Such a state of things
exactly suited Lady Richard; she would not wish May to be pained, but she
enjoyed infinitely any legitimate "dig" at her old enemy. May fought with
equal gallantry and good temper.
"Success is our crime," she said gaily at dinner. "Mr. Morewood can't
forgive it. You call us Philistines now, I expect, don't you?"
"Philistines in the very highest degree," he nodded.
"I know," she cried. "The only really cultivated thing is to fail
elegantly."
"Let's bow our acknowledgments," Morewood called across to Marchmont.
"Oh, no, Mr. Marchmont isn't like that. He doesn't even try. Well,
perhaps that's still more superior." She smiled at Marchmont, shaking her
head. "But we try, we try everything."
The "we" grated still on Marchmont's feelings, and the worse because it
seemed to come more easily and naturally from her lips.
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