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Chapter I. I Go to Styles
Cavendishuntillunch-time,whenshevolunteeredtotakemeforawalk,andwespentacharmingafternoonroaminginthewoods,returningtothehouseaboutfive.
Asweenteredthelargehall,Johnbeckonedusbothintothesmoking-room.Isawatoncebyhisfacethatsomethingdisturbinghadoccurred.Wefollowedhimin,andheshutthedoorafterus.
“Lookhere,Mary,there’sthedeuceofamess.Evie’shadarowwithAlfredInglethorp,andshe’soff.”
“Evie?Off?”
Johnnoddedgloomily.
“Yes;youseeshewenttothemater,and—Oh,—here’sEvieherself.”
MissHowardentered.Herlipsweresetgrimlytogether,andshecarriedasmallsuit-case.Shelookedexcitedanddetermined,andslightlyonthedefensive.
“Atanyrate,”sheburstout,“I’vespokenmymind!”
“MydearEvelyn,”criedMrs.Cavendish,“thiscan’tbetrue!”
MissHowardnoddedgrimly.
“Trueenough!AfraidIsaidsomethingstoEmilyshewon’tforgetorforgiveinahurry.Don’tmindifthey’veonlysunkinabit.Probablywateroffaduck’sback,though.Isaidrightout:‘You’reanoldwoman,Emily,andthere’snofoollikeanoldfool.Theman’stwentyyearsyoungerthanyou,anddon’tyoufoolyourselfastowhathemarriedyoufor.Money!Well,don’tlethimhavetoomuchofit.FarmerRaikeshasgotaveryprettyyoungwife.JustaskyourAlfredhowmuchtimehespendsoverthere.’Shewasveryangry.Natural!Iwenton,‘I’mgoingtowarnyou,whetheryoulikeitornot.Thatmanwouldassoonmurderyouinyourbedaslookatyou.
