It was all Delia could do to keep herself from following suit, but she did, with an effort.
“Your father is one of the best and noblest men that ever lived, Gerard,” she answered. “It is a privilege to have known him.”
There were times when she would take herself to task. What right had she to indulge in such feelings? Ought she not rather to crush them? Yet why? Their influence upon her was wholly for good, never for evil. Were her days dark—what would he have had her do? This she thought she knew, and did it accordingly. He had known dark days himself, she had gathered in course of some of their conversations, very dark days, yet look at him now—a man ideally perfect in her adoring estimation. Yes; it was good for her this obsession—doubly good. If she had passed through the fire it was a refining one.
And, strange to say, the helping hand of the absent man seemed stretched over her still. From several quarters came in orders for newspaper work akin to her illustrated venture at Hilversea Court, for articles descriptive of country life and scenery. Clytie, too, found herself receiving almost more typing orders than she could execute. The joint income of Siege House was beginning to look up.
“By Jove, but Wagram is a good chap!” exclaimed Clytie one day with characteristic outspokenness. “This is all his doing, of course. I tell you what it is, Delia, if you don’t bring off my scheme within a reasonable time of his return I’m blest if I don’t cut in myself.”
“Why do you think it’s his doing, Clytie?” had been the answer, ignoring the last threat.
“It wasn’t for nothing he came down here pumping us that day. Well, he is one in a good many thousands, as I shall tell him some day when he’s my bro—”
“Oh, shut up, Clytie. You know I hate that sort of chaff,” interrupted Delia testily, for the remark jarred upon her hideously.
“Right oh!” cried the other, with a good-humoured laugh. “Keep your hair on, dear. You can, too, for it’s all your own, and a jolly good lot of it too—that’s where you dark ones score over us—though I don’t come far behind. Let’s shut up shop now and go for a bike ride. We shall skim over these frost-bound roads; only we’ll get jolly red noses. We can ride to Fulkston, and back through Hilversea—and adore the empty Court in the distance,” she added slyly.
They made an attractive pair as they skimmed along, both sitting gracefully and well; the serene classical features of the one, and the more rich and sparkling brunette beauty of the other, together with the well-formed, graceful figures of both, constituted a picture which caused more than one male head to come round in admiration as its owner half halted.