It's a splendid night." He added with a
rather uneasy laugh, "Quisante's coming to-morrow! We'll leave him to
tackle you himself, Morewood."
Lady Richard and Fanny Gaston were sitting in the garden by the
drawing-room window when the men joined them; Morewood dropped into a
chair by Lady Richard and, looking across the lawn, saw May strolling by
herself on the walk that bounded the shrubberies. He took his coffee in
silence and then lighted his pipe; the vanity of cigarettes was not for
him. At last he said confidentially,
"I've a sort of feeling that I've made an ass of myself."
Lady Richard glanced round; Fanny had gone across to the other group;
nobody was in hearing.
"Do you know," she said in a low voice, "I believe that man's been up to
some trick again. You know how he treated us over the Crusade? Now I
suppose he's going to ruin us!" The satisfaction of a justified prophet
seemed to mingle with the dismay of a wife and the anger of a sufferer;
Lady Richard had expected nothing less all along!
"I'm afraid I rather--well, that Lady May didn't like it.
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