|
I should like you to like her, he said, wistfully.
I thought you were always on
theside of common-sense.
I went to see that Morland, he said; its genuine
enough.
The door was banged to, and she held out both her hands.
Will you give
him these cards,and ask if we might see him for a moment?
Yes, muttered Soames;
shes like a limpet.
At last Val said:What guarantee have I that your
informations worth fifty pounds,or even five?
Some gang or other are
takingaltogether too much interest in the colt.
I always think its rot to talk
about ages being this or that. If theresanything in the world more perverse
than horses!
Trite expressions were knocking against Soames palate.
I dont care
what happens to ideas, said Fleur, but I dont likestupidity.
The Marquess shook
the head that was resting on his hand.
I suppose theres no doubt about the
dibs? What had Fleur said: Au revoir at Goodwood, if not before! Fleur leaned
forward, and with faint malice said: Have you becomea moralist, my dear?
Dwellon the slums, mention the names we hope to get, and leave the restto
him.
It will hang in my gallery at Mapledurham.
That makes four, and Sir
Timothys asitter; slum landlords are his betes noires.
Subtly flattered by the
thought that Superior Dosset was a greatrip, Soames expanded slightly.
Will you
give him these cards,and ask if we might see him for a moment? I dont care what
happens to ideas, said Fleur, but I dont likestupidity. Were not going any way,
said Fleur, theres only pace. The pace doesnt matter so much, said Soames,
astonished athimself, so long as it leads somewhere.
Looks like blackberry
sickness out ofseason. The Marquess shook the head that was resting on his
hand.
We can hardly hope that hell take an interest in the thing foritself. The
potential Lady Montross will bring him in.
The Marquess took his foot down, and
sighed.
And to his stare she made her face quite candid.
Im not sure, said the
Marquess, Im not sure. I always think its rot to talk about ages being this or
that.
Jon passed his hand over the colts quarter: Poor old son! Her eyes moved
from sideto side, as if she were adding: Or the beginning, and Ive neverhad it.
Besides, its not the fashion to be faithful. He dropped her hand, and she
looked at him from beneath her lids. A white figure was standing atthe
window.
Over here we stab each other daily, and noharm done.
My grandfather
bought it from the painter.
|
