“I suppose she is very clever.”
“And she spoke capitally.”
“If she were to speak. What would your father think of her?”
But for the first time Cecil’s allegiance had experienced a certain shock. Some sort of pedestal had hitherto been needful to her existence; she was learning that Dunstone was an unrecognized elevation in this new country, and she had seen a woman attain to a pinnacle that almost dazzled her, by sheer resource and good sense.
All the discussion she afterwards heard did not tend to shake her opinion; Raymond recounted the adventure at his mother’s kettle-drum, telling of his own astonishment at the little lady’s assurance.
“I do not see why she should be censured,” said Cecil. “You were all at a loss without her.”
“She should have got her husband to speak for her,” said Mrs. Poynsett.
“He was not there.”
“Then she should have instructed some other gentleman,” said Mrs. Poynsett. “A woman spoils all the effect of her doings by putting herself out of her proper place.”
“Perfectly disgusting!” said Julius.