“That goes without saying,” said Mrs. Gilderoy, relinquishing the powder puff for a manicure case. Whatever were Diana Churton’s other drawbacks her hands were always immaculate. “When we had Arabs I never could go out after the house was shut up, or I fell over them on the doorstep, and—and it embarrassed me!”
“Brutes!” said Chum disgustedly. Her eyes grew stormy, and a beautiful red colour came into her cheeks, that were usually rather pale. “I will turn them out one and all, if that is the case.”
“Don’t be such a fool!” said Mrs. Churton scornfully. “If they are good servants, keep them. What on earth does it matter what they do? All the coloured people are alike—only animals.”
She did not see that her broad judgment might apply to white races also, though later she went back to the stoep and her contemplation of Alaric Lewin. There was a certain grave dark beauty in Ally’s face which was deceptive, because at the moment he was merely rather sleepy; but when the Lewins mounted their ponies again for the ride home in the short twilight, Mrs. Churton strolled over to Ally and laid her hand on the neck of his mount.
“If you can come up some time with your duplicates I’ll make a fair exchange with you, for some of those Sydney Views you have,” she said. Stamps are an innocent and mutual hobby. Mrs. Lewin did not collect.
“Thanks, awfully!” said Ally. The last whiskey that had been pressed on him at parting made him feel that Di Churton was really a good sort of pal to have, and he moved the reins.... Di’s hands were cool and soft to touch.
“Ally, I’m half-way home!” called Chum, laughing, as she steered Liscarton down the steep road.
The man gathered up his reins and rode after his wife, his hand delicately conscious of a soft touch still.
The woman turned back to the house, wondering if any one had seen.
Nobody thought of the Arabs on the stoep—but even such courtship as theirs must have a beginning.