"I say, may I come over the day after to-morrow? Shall you be here?" Dormer asked.
"The day after to-morrow? Thursday? Yes, I shall be delighted to see you. I want to know how you're getting on in those negotiations with Mr. Cartmell, you know." This referred to those farms of his—she had by now settled on three—which she wanted to round off her frontier.
Dormer smiled slyly at her. "All right, we'll talk about that, too."
"Have we any other business?" she asked, lifting her brows in feigned surprise.
"Something may crop up," he answered with a laugh. "Till then, Miss Driver!"
The young men got in and drove off, Margaret watching and waving her hand as they went—a salutation copiously acknowledged by Lacey; Dormer was busy with his handles.
"If Mr. Alison is prompt with his commission, Thursday may be a busy day," Jenny remarked, as she sat down in a low chair and lay back in it with an air of energy relaxed. Sitting down by her, I began to smoke my pipe. Margaret passed us, smiling, and went into the house.
"That was a fight," said Jenny presently, "rather a stiff one—but we've got our stiffest still to come. Lord Fillingford will fight; I must move all my battalions against him. I shall bribe—perhaps I shall still have to bully." She sighed. For the moment, the afternoon's struggle done, a weariness was upon her. She sat silent again for a long while, her brows knit in meditation or in sorrow.
"I won't tell anybody else," at last she said. "I have told you, because I wouldn't have you live here on false pretenses—because you're my friend. I told Mr. Alison to-day for the reason you heard. I'll tell nobody else. The old attitude toward the rest! It's really no use telling—I can't tell it right; I can't put it into words. For myself even I can't recover the past—can't quite see how I did it—what woman I was then, or how that woman stands to the woman I am now. A mist has come between the two."
"For Heaven's sake, vex yourself no more! Let the dead bury its dead. Alison has upset you."