All the rest of the day Alick relapsed into the lazy frivolous young officer with whom Rachel had first been acquainted.
As he was driving home in the cool fresh summer night, he began—
“I think I must go to this idiotical bazaar!”
“You!” exclaimed Rachel.
“Yes; I don’t think Bessie ought to go by herself with all this Carleton crew.”
“You don’t wish me to go,” said Rachel, gulping down the effort.
“You! My dear Rachel, I would not take you for fifty pounds, nor could I go myself without leaving you as vice deputy curate.”
“No need for that,” said Mr. Clare, from the seat behind; “young people must not talk secrets with a blind man’s ears behind them.”
“I make no secret,” said Alick. “I could not go without leaving my wife to take care of my uncle, or my uncle to take care of my wife.”
“And you think you ought to go?” said Mr. Clare. “It is certainly better that Bessie should have a gentleman with her in the crowd; but you know this is a gossiping neighbourhood, and you must be prepared for amazement at your coming into public alone not three weeks after your wedding.”