‘I have already offered myself in writing, and shall walk out to Tintajeux, on approval, this evening. If Miss Bartrand thinks me capable of teaching her arithmetic, also the rudiments of Greek and Latin, at five shillings an hour, the bargain will be struck.’
‘Capable!’
The exclamation came from Dinah, who until now had maintained a staid but not ungracious silence while the others talked. A certain light in Dinah’s eyes betrayed the profound conviction of Geoffrey’s intellect which was felt by her.
Mrs. Thorne looked, without showing she looked, at the three Arbuthnots in turn.
‘You think Mr. Geoffrey Arbuthnot more than capable of guiding the whole combined feminine intellect of our poor little Guernsey. Do you not, Mrs. Arbuthnot?’
Linda asked this with the North Pole voice that puts the social position of a feminine questioner at so vast a distance from the social position of her questioned.
‘I know nothing about intellect, except what I hear from Geoffrey and my husband. I am quite uneducated myself.’
Dinah’s reply was accompanied by a large level glance from those fearless, truthful Devonshire eyes of hers. And Mrs. Thorne’s eyes fell.
Gaston Arbuthnot felt the heart within him rejoice. He would honestly have liked to accord a ‘Brava!’ to his wife.