Alice came, and the greeting between the cousins was very affectionate. Lady Glencora received her as though they had been playmates from early childhood; and Alice, though such impulsive love was not natural to her as to the other, could not bring herself to be cold to one who was so warm to her. Indeed, had she not promised her love in that meeting at Matching Priory in which her cousin had told her of all her wretchedness? "I will love you!" Alice had said; and though there was much in Lady Glencora that she could not approve,—much even that she could not bring herself to like,—still she would not allow her heart to contradict her words.
They sat so long over the fire in the drawing-room that at last they agreed that the driving should be abandoned.
"What's the use of it?" said Lady Glencora. "There's nothing to see, and the wind is as cold as charity. We are much more comfortable here; are we not?" Alice quite acquiesced in this, having no great desire to be driven through the parks in the gloom of a February afternoon.
"If I had Dandy and Flirt up here, there would be some fun in it; but Mr. Palliser doesn't wish me to drive in London."
"I suppose it would be dangerous?"
"Not in the least. I don't think it's that he minds; but he has an idea that it looks fast."
"So it does. If I were a man, I'm sure I shouldn't like my wife to drive horses about London."
"And why not? Just because you'd be a tyrant,—like other husbands? What's the harm of looking fast, if one doesn't do anything improper? Poor Dandy, and dear Flirt! I'm sure they'd like it."
"Perhaps Mr. Palliser doesn't care for that?"
"I can tell you something else he doesn't care for. He doesn't care whether Dandy's mistress likes it."