This knowledge, as though surreptitiously obtained, Tom locked within his breast until the day when she herself should choose to share it with him.
He remembered another little conversation too when, similarly, he disturbed them in discussion: this time it was Mrs. Haughstone who was called away.
'Behaving badly, Lettice, is she? Scolding you again?'
'Not at all. Only she sees the bad in every one and I see the good. She disapproves of Tony rather.'
'Then she will be less often deceived than you,' he replied laughingly. The reference to Tony had escaped him; his slow mind was on the general proposition.
'Perhaps. But you can only make people better by believing that they are better,' she went on with conviction—when Mrs. Haughstone joined them and took up her parable again:
'My cousin behaves like a child,' she said with amusing severity. 'She doesn't understand the world. But the world is hard upon grown-ups who behave like children. Lettice thinks everybody good. Her innocence gets her misjudged. And it's a pity.'
'I'll keep an eye on her,' Tom said solemnly, 'and we'll begin this very afternoon.'
'Do, Mr. Kelverdon, I'm glad to hear it.' And as she said it, he noticed another expression on her face as she glanced down the drive where Tony, dressed in grey flannels and singing to himself, was seen sauntering towards them. She wore an enigmatic smile by no means pleasant. It gave him a moment's twinge. He turned from her to Lettice by way of relief. She was waving her white-gloved hand, her eyes were shining, her little face was radiant—and Tom's happiness came back upon him in a rising flood again as he watched her beauty.… He thought that Egypt was the most marvellous place he had ever known. Even Tony looked enchanted—almost handsome. But Lettice looked divine. He felt more and more that the woman in her blossomed into life before his very eyes. His content was absolute.