Lady Eynesford, with a significant smile, beat one gloved hand softly against the other.
"That can't be seen outside the carriage, can it? You mustn't tell of me! And we owe it all to you, Mr. Coxon!" And for the moment Lady Eynesford's heart really warmed to the man who had relieved her of the Medlands. "When are you coming to see us?" she went on. "Or is it wrong for you to come now? Politically wrong, I mean."
"I was afraid it might be wrong otherwise," Coxon suggested.
"Not unless you feel it so, I'm sure."
"Perhaps Miss Derosne—" he began, but Lady Eynesford was on the alert.
"Her friendly feelings towards you have undergone no change, and if you can forget—Ah, here are Alicia and my husband!" and Lady Eynesford, feeling the arrival excellently well timed, broke off the tête-à-tête before the protests she feared could form themselves on Coxon's lips.
It might be that Alicia's feelings had undergone no change, but, if so, Coxon was forced to recognise that he could never have enjoyed a large share of her favour, for she acknowledged his presence with the minimum of civility, and, when he addressed her directly, replied with the coldness of pronounced displeasure.
Lady Eynesford, perceiving that graciousness on her part was perfectly safe, redoubled her efforts to soothe the despised admirer. She had liked him well enough, he had served her against her enemies, and she was ready and eager to do all she could to soften the blow, provided always that she could rely on the blow being struck. Now, from Alicia's manner it was plain that the blow had fallen from an unfaltering hand.
Suddenly the Chief Justice said,