The two men walked up and down together for half an hour, until it became too dark to see their faces. Sometimes they stopped in their walk and stood still for a time, and then they would go on again. Sometimes Sir William made a gesture, but Colonel Eldridge hardly moved his hands, except to take his pipe out of his mouth, and once to fill and light it again. It was impossible for Miss Baldwin, who now watched them, fascinated by a sense of drama, and with no pretence to herself of not doing so, to avoid the conviction that their dispute was serious, and not easy of settlement. She thought she could tell from Sir William's movements that he was coming to feel more and more annoyance, and that Colonel Eldridge was also angry, though he was exercising control over himself.
But surely, it must end some time! It was so dark now that she could only just see their forms in the shade of the trees, and Sir William's cigar glowed with a red point of light; and still they went on. She began to get alarmed lest Colonel Eldridge might look up at the windows of the schoolroom and notice that they were unlit, and it would be discovered that she had been watching them, sitting in the dark. But she dared not draw the curtains now, for that would be to attract attention.
The end came suddenly, and in a way to make her draw her breath. They had been stationary for some time, and their voices had raised themselves slightly. She could hear them through the other window, which remained open, but not what they were saying. Sir William walked quickly across the lawn, and through the gate to where his car was standing. He got into his seat, and the twin lights in front of the car blazed out blindingly. The chauffeur ran to open the gate into the park, and it seemed to her that he hardly had time to jump on to the car as it went through it, swinging to behind them. She watched the radiance that moved with it, and the little point of red light behind it, until it disappeared over a dip, and then went again to the other window. Colonel Eldridge was lighting his pipe once more. When he had done so, he resumed his slow pacing of the lawn.
They were playing Bridge at the Grange, Lady Eldridge and Pamela against Mrs. Eldridge and Norman. Judith, who did not care for Bridge, was deep in a big chair, reading a book. Her passion for facts, lately fostered by her friendship with Lord Horsham, had not driven her to choose this book, which was "Three Men in a Boat." She read it closely, turning over the pages at regular intervals, and never smiled once. But when she came to reproducing scraps of its wisdom after she had digested it and made it her own, she would make others laugh over it.
Her mother's eyes were often upon her in the intervals of the game, with a sort of critical look, as if she were trying to see her in some new light. She made a picture to fill the eye, in her white frock, with the deep purple ribbons at her waist and in her dusky hair. The dark covering of the chair framed her young form, and threw up the delicate profile of her face, the long lashes veiling her eyes, the full red lips a little apart. She was a very beautiful girl, but childhood seemed to linger about her, emphasized by the way her hair was done, and the slim crossed ankles beneath her skirt, shorter than she would presently come to wear it. Was her mother trying to see her as already a woman? It would not be surprising if others did, though it was doubtful if she herself was yet ready to step out of the enchanted garden of her girlhood.
A rubber was just finished, and Pamela and Norman were endeavouring to come to some agreement about the score, when sounds were heard outside which caused Lady Eldridge to rise from her chair. "That must be William," she said. "He's very late. I'll just go and see if he wants anything."
She went out, and did not return. Pamela and Norman finished their calculations and leant back in their chairs. Mrs. Eldridge had already moved to a more comfortable one, and was sitting there in silence, looking out into the night, through the open French windows.
Presently it became noticeable that they were left alone. Even Judith looked up from her book inquiringly, but turned again to Montmorency, relieved, perhaps, at having a few more minutes' respite. Norman said: "I wonder what they're doing?" Then he and Pamela began to play Patience, and so they all continued, but with expectancy.
Ten minutes must have gone by before Lady Eldridge came in again. Her sister-in-law threw a sharp glance at her, but she showed no traces of anything having happened to disturb her, unless it was in an added seriousness of expression. "William sends his love, and hopes you will excuse his coming in," she said. "He has some letters to write before he goes to bed."