"Perhaps. I'm not sure, though, that I shouldn't leave it to Mr. Fenning himself."
"My dear, respectability goes for something. The man's alive, after all."
Alice knew that he was alive and in her heart knew that she was glad he was alive; but she was sorry that Ora should be made to cry by being invited to remember that he was alive. Irene was, presumably, happy with the man she had chosen; it was a good work leaning towards supererogation (if such were possible) when she took Ora's domestic relations under her wing. She hinted something of this sort.
"Oh, that's what Ashley Mead says; we all know why he says it," was Irene's mode of receiving the good advice.
A pause followed; Irene put her arm through Alice's and they began to walk about the garden. Lady Muddock was working at her embroidery at the open window; she was pronouncedly anti-Ashleyan, taking the colour of her opinions from her husband and even more from Bob.
"Where's Lord Bowdon?"
"Oh, at his tiresome Commission. He's coming to tea afterwards. I asked Mr. Mead, but he won't come."
"You'll be happier alone together."
Irene Kilnorton made no answer. She looked faintly doubtful and a trifle distressed. Presently she made a general remark.