This appeared to Mrs. Hancock another bit of selfishness. It seemed to her quite likely that Mr. Martin's really magical touch might easily remove Elizabeth's trouble, in which case Egypt and the patience-table blossomed again instead of withering on their stalks. But she determined not to give it all up quite yet and abandon Elizabeth, so it represented itself to her, to the moral pit of her selfishness.
Mr. Martin, who dined with Mrs. Hancock that evening, and spoke of Egypt as if it was a newly acquired possession of hers, like her motor or the gate that had, in spite of Edward's luke-warmness on the subject, been put into the wall that separated the two gardens, trumpeted her praise in his usual manner.
"We shall miss you terribly," he said. "Heathmoor will not be itself without you. But still how right you are to go and see it all for yourself. You take your car with you? No? Then I shall be down on Denton and expect him to stop for my sermon every Sunday morning, poor fellow! instead of stealing out to bring your car back for you. Poor Denton! Ha, ha! He'll be glad, I'll warrant, when you come back again and he can shirk the padre's jaw as usual. An excellent fellow, Denton! Upon my word, I am sorry for him. I shall skip a page or two every now and then if Denton looks too reproachfully at me."
"Alfred, Alfred!" said his wife.
"I shall nobble—isn't it nobble, Edward?—I shall nobble Denton to sing psalms in the choir," said Mr. Martin, "while Mrs. Hancock is away. He will have no car to take back after she has gone to church. Yes, yes; give Denton a dose of David to begin with, and Alfred to finish up with!" Mr. Martin looked furtively round to see if Lind was amused, and Mrs. Martin put her hand to her face.
"Alfred, Alfred!" she said. "Is not Alfred naughty!"
Mrs. Hancock beamed delightedly. This wild religious badinage always pleased her. It seemed to make a human thing of religion, to bring it into ordinary life.
"I will leave Denton in your hands," she said, "with the utmost confidence."
"So long as we don't make a clergyman of him before you come back," suggested Mr. Martin. "We won't do that; there are many mansions, and I'm sure that a good fellow in his garage occupies one of them. We all have got our mansion, have we not? You, Miss Elizabeth, in your music, Edward here in the City, though he's a lucky fellow to be sure, for he has a musical mansion as well. And we all meet; we all meet."
This was a shade more solemn than Mr. Martin's usual dinner-table conversation, and Mrs. Hancock, crumbling her bread with dropped eyes, saw here a very good gambit to open with again in a little serious conversation she meant, if possible, to have with him afterwards. Then the appearance of a very particular salad roused her immediate attention.