Ah, if he might give just the barest hint to Mina now!
"Bob isn't particularly fond of her, you see, so we don't meet much now. He thinks she's rather spiteful."
"Not at all," said Neeld, almost sharply. "She's a very intelligent woman."
"Oh yes, intelligent!" She said no more. If people did not agree with Bob—well, there it was.
Bob bore his idealization very well. It was easy to foresee a happy and a remarkably equable married life. But the whole thing had no flavor for Mr Neeld's palate, spoilt by the spices of Tristram vagaries. A decent show of friendliness was all he could muster. It was all that Iver himself seemed to expect; he was resigned but by no means exultant.
"The girl's very happy, and that's the thing. For myself—well, I've got most of the things I started to get, and if this isn't quite what I looked forward to—Well, you remember how things fell out?"
Neeld nodded. He remembered that very well.
"And, as I say, it's all very satisfactory." He shrugged his shoulders and relighted his cigar. He was decidedly a reasonable man, thought Neeld.
The evening came—Neeld had been impatient for it—and they drove over to Blent, where Bob was to meet them.
"It's a fine place for a girl to have," said Iver, stirred to a sudden sense of the beauty of the old house as it came into view.