"Come, Bannister, you press your scruples too far. There are no politics in this."
Dale was staggered, but not convinced.
"I'd rather not put myself forward at all," he said.
The Squire assumed an air of apologetic friendliness.
"I know you'll excuse me, Bannister. I'm twice your age or more, and I—well—I haven't been so lucky as you in escaping the world of etiquette. But, my dear fellow, when the Duke sends a message—it really comes to that—it's a strongish thing to say you won't do it. Oh, of course, you can if you like—there's no beheading nowadays; but it's not very usual."
"I wish Lord Cransford had never mentioned me to the Duke at all."
"Perhaps it would have been wiser," the Squire conceded candidly, "but Cransford is so proud of anything that brings kudos to the county, and he could no more leave you out than he could the Institute itself. Well, we mustn't force you. Think it over, think it over. I must be off. No, don't you go. Stay and have tea with the ladies;" and the Squire, who, as has been previously mentioned, was no fool, left his daughter to entertain his guest.
Janet was working at a piece of embroidery, and she went on working in silence for a minute or two. Then she looked up and said:
"Tora Smith was here this morning. She'll be very disappointed at your refusal to write for her meeting."
"Miss Smith has no claim on me," said Dale stiffly. He had not forgotten Tora's injurious suspicions. "Besides, one doesn't do such things simply for the asking—not even if it's a lady who asks."