"If you like," she said coldly.
"You will write the invitation, of course. To lunch, quietly—by ourselves."
"I would rather have some one else to meet them."
"No—I think not this time. In fact, I have promised the Colonel that we would be alone. There are matters that I wish to talk over with him."
"And I am to have the pleasure of Miss Atherstone's interminable gossip."
Evelyn spoke scornfully, and the General sighed, feeling the state of things to be deplorable. He was conscious of a widening gulf between himself and his wife. They could scarcely talk now on any subject without a jar. If only she would have submitted herself to his dictum on disputed points, all would have gone with such delightful smoothness; but this was far from being the state of the case.
He had an odd liking for the hugely-moustached Colonel, whose loud voice and boisterous laugh were so in contrast with his own gentlemanly quietness. Such likings are difficult to understand. The Colonel could talk down all Dutton, and he did not know the meaning of refinement. He was broad and stout, plain-featured and roughly resolute, and he would trample with an iron heel on the opinions of all who differed from himself. He loved nothing better than to decry the doings of Bishops and Clergy, with a slap-dash and jaunty vehemence, surrounded by a circle of listeners, and he would handle recklessly the dearest beliefs of others, caring nothing whatever for the pain he gave.
This it was which utterly repelled Evelyn. Strange to say, the General could listen and not disapprove. He would never himself speak thus; but he would permit and condone harshness, even coarseness, in his friend. Evelyn could only look upon the Colonel's power over her husband as a species of bewildering fascination.
Thursday afternoon happened to be a free time with Jean, and as she had not seen Evelyn for some days, she started for the Park. The sky looked threatening; a sharp frost had set in; and Mr. Trevelyan foretold snow; but Jean cared little for weather. She was secure of a welcome from Evelyn, and secure of an escort home, if she should not return till after dark.
Light of foot and light of heart, she sped briskly on her way. The bitter cold and the half frozen slippery fields were nothing to her young vigour. She had a great joy ahead, for Oswald would be at home for the New Year. Oswald was in the Army now, a fine young man, Jean's pride and delight. She firmly believed that no such promising subaltern had ever been seen in the Service before. Oswald's choice of a profession had been something of a trial to Mr. Trevelyan, who would have wished his only son to follow in his own steps; but he was the last man to use pressure for such a result.