‘Cecil certainly did it,’ said she, with a certain bitterness. ‘I suppose he did. These young players are always thinking of scoring eight or ten on a single hazard: one should never back them!’
‘Mr. Atlee said there was some female influence at work. He would not tell what nor whom. Possibly he did not know.’
‘I rather suspect he did know. They were people, if I mistake not, belonging to that Irish castle—Kil—Kil-somebody, or Kil-something.’
‘Was Walpole flirting there? was he going to marry one of them?’
‘Flirting, I take it, must have been the extent of the folly. Cecil often said he could not marry Irish. I have known men do it! You are aware, Maude,’ and here he looked with uncommon gravity, ‘the penal laws have all been repealed.’
‘I was speaking of society, my lord, not the statutes,’ said she resentfully, and half suspicious of a sly jest.
‘Had she money?’ asked he curtly.
‘I cannot tell; I know nothing of these people whatever! I remember something—it was a newspaper story—of a girl that saved Cecil’s life by throwing herself before him—a very pretty incident it was; but these things make no figure in a settlement; and a woman may be as bold as Joan of Arc, and not have sixpence. Atlee says you can always settle the courage on the younger children.’
‘Atlee’s an arrant scamp,’ said my lord, laughing. ‘He should have written some days since.’
‘I suppose he is too late for the borough: the Cradford election comes on next week?’ Though there could not be anything more languidly indifferent than her voice in this question, a faint pinkish tinge flitted across her cheek, and left it colourless as before.