“Just as you like; it’s no affair of mine.”
Colonel Dacre’s temper was naturally good, but it began to fail him a little now.
“I should have fancied you were left in the house on purpose to give information,” he said. “Anyhow, you might as well give a civil answer to a civil question. I am sure Lady Gwendolyn would not consider that you served her interests by being rude to her visitors.”
“Her ladyship knows too well about me for anything people might say to trouble her,” answered the woman quietly. “I do my duty, so far as I know how; and I can’t help the rest. If her ladyship came down here it is because she wants rest and quiet; but, of course, if she told me to let in a whole regiment I should obey her.”
“Then she has told you not to admit any one?”
“I never said so, sir.”
“At any rate, I shall return in a couple of hours,” responded Colonel Dacre, irritated almost beyond endurance, and he turned on his heel and marched briskly away.
He looked back when he reached the gate, and caught just one glimpse of a graceful dark head at one of the windows; but it was withdrawn before he had time to identify it. And he went on his way, wondering if Lady Gwendolyn was as false as her sister-in-law, or if she was one of those women who love to torture those in their power.
He adjourned to the village inn, and ordered a bottle of wine, simply for the sake of getting into conversation with the landlord, who seemed much gratified when he was told to bring a second glass and help himself. The sherry was potent, and loosened mine host’s tongue.
What sort of a neighborhood was it? Why, as poor as poor could be. He never got any genteel custom from week’s end to week’s end, and that was very trying to a man who had lived in good families before he took up with the public line, and liked to keep in his own set.