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Di
“And off mine, miss. Mr. Desert has every call on me. And I want the best for him. He’s not everybody’s money, but he’s mine.”
“And mine, Stack.”
“I won’t bandy compliments, miss, but he’ll be a lucky one, if you’ll excuse me.”
Di
She went away, treading, so to speak, on Cork Street. She had an ally in the lion’s mouth; a spy in the friend’s camp; a faithful traitor! Thus mixing her metaphors, she scurried back to her aunt’s house. Her father would almost certainly go there before returning to Condaford.
Seeing his unmistakable old bowler in the hall, she took the precaution of removing her own hat before going to the drawing-room. He was talking to her aunt, and they stopped as she came in. Everyone would always stop now as she came in! Looking at them with quiet directness, she sat down.
The General’s eyes met hers.
“I’ve been to see Mr. Desert, Di
“I know, dear. He is thinking it over. We shall wait till everyone knows, anyway.”
The General moved uneasily.
“And if it is any satisfaction to you, we are not formally engaged.”
The General gave her a slight bow, and Di
There was a silence, then the General said:
“When are you going to Lippinghall, Em?”
“Next week,” replied Lady Mont, “or is it the week after? Lawrence knows. I’m showing two gardeners at the Chelsea Flower Show. Boswell and Johnson, Di
“Oh! Are they still with you?”
“More so. Con, you ought to grow pestifera—no, that’s not the name—that hairy anemone thing.”
“Pulsatilla, Auntie.”
“Charmin’ flowers. They want lime.”
“We’re short of lime at Condaford,” said the General, “as you ought to know, Em.”
“Our azaleas were a dream this year, Aunt Em.”
Lady Mont put down the blotting-paper.
“I’ve been tellin’ your father, Di
Di
“Huntin’,” said Lady Mont, and sighed. “When they get up chimneys, it’s rather touchin’.”
“Even Dad doesn’t like digging out, or stopping earths, do you, Dad?”
“N-no!” said the General, “on the whole, no!”
“Bloodin’ children, too,” said Lady Mont. “I saw you blooded, Con.”
“Messy job, and quite u
“He looked so nasty, Di
“Yes, you haven’t got the face for it, Dad. It wants one of those snub-nosed, red-haired, freckled boys, that like killing for the sake of killing.”
The General rose.
“I must be going back to the Club. Jean picks me up there. When shall we see you, Di
“Aunt Em’s keeping me till Saturday.”
The General nodded. He suffered his sister’s and daughter’s kiss with a face that seemed to say, ‘Yes—but—’
From the window Di
“Your father!” said her aunt’s voice behind her. “All this is very wearin’, Di
“I think it’s very dear of Dad not to have mentioned the fact that I’m dependent on him.”
“Con IS a dear,” said Lady Mont; “he said the young man was respectful. Who was it said: ‘Goroo—goroo’?”
“The old Jew in David Copperfield.”
“Well, it’s what I feel.”
Di
“Auntie! I don’t feel the same being at all as I did two weeks ago. I’m utterly changed. Then I didn’t seem to have any desires; now I’m all one desire, and I don’t seem to care whether I’m decent or not. Don’t say Epsom salts!”
Lady Mont patted her arm.
“‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’” she said; “but then there was ‘Forsake all and follow me,’ so you can’t tell.”
“I can,” said Di
“Let’s have some tea, Di
CHAPTER 16
Di
Adrian, already notified, received the young man with what he stigmatised to himself as ‘morbid curiosity,’ and placed him at once in mental apposition to Di
“Well, Mr. Cherrell, what would YOU do?”
Adrian, who was looking up, halted and considered his questioner with narrowed eyes.
“I’m a poor hand at advice, but Di
“She is.”
Adrian bent and shut the door of a cabinet.
“This morning,” he said, “I watched a solitary ant in my bathroom trying to make its way and find out about things. I’m sorry to say I dropped some ashes from my pipe on it to see what it would do. Providence all over—always dropping ashes from its pipe on us to observe the result. I’ve been in several minds, but I’ve come to the conclusion that if you’re really in love with Di
‘Genuine!’ thought Adrian.
“So think first of her, but not in the ‘I love you so that nothing will induce me to marry you’ fashion. Do what she wants—when she wants it—she’s not unreasonable. And, honestly, I don’t believe you’ll either of you regret it.”
Desert took a step towards him, and Adrian could see that he was intensely moved. But he mastered all expression, save a little jerky smile, made a movement of one hand, turned, and went out.
Adrian continued to shut the doors of cupboards that contained bones. ‘That,’ he was thinking, ‘is the most difficult, and in some ways the most beautiful face I’ve seen. The spirit walks upon its waters and is often nearly drowned. I wonder if that advice was criminal, because for some reason or other I believe he’s going to take it.’ And he returned to the reading of a geographical magazine which Wilfrid’s visit had interrupted. It contained a spirited account of an Indian tribe on the Amazon which had succeeded, even without the aid of American engineers at capitalistic salaries, in perfecting the Communistic ideal. None of them, apparently, owned anything. Their whole lives, including the processes of nature, were passed in the public eye. They wore no clothes, they had no laws; their only punishment, something in co