“And Mrs. Grainger—Edith?” asked his brother-in-law. (He had always alluded to her like this since the dreadful days of the Nelson letters. “Mrs. Grainger” marked the moral difference that there was between them, “Edith” showed that blood—though there wasn’t any—was thicker than water.)
Hugh, however, was not trained to these niceties.
“Oh, didn’t you know,” he said, “though, after all, how should you? She’s at Davos still; getting on awfully well again. I came away for a jaunt.”
Ambrose never went wrong according to the true standard.
“Oh, Uncle Hugh,” he said, “did you leave Aunt Edith there alone?”
Even the light on his spectacles looked incredulous. Hugh became flippant.
“Yes, she wants you to go out to keep her company,” he said, “as I ran away.”
Canon Alington, as he was so often told, had infinite tact. He saw at once that something dreadful must have happened; everyone, indeed, except perhaps Perpetua, saw that, and he changed the subject with great address. That was the advantage of being a man of the world, for there was no situation in it which he did not feel himself equal to grappling with, and, if necessary, throwing. The subject had to be changed; easily, naturally, he changed it.
“You ought to have come back two months ago, Hugh,” he said, “and have instructed us in the Davos style. I but borrowed a reflected light from you. We had three weeks’ skating after I returned, and I think we may say that the standard and form in these parts is improved.”
Mrs. Owen was thrilled; to her acute and active mind the whole situation was apparent. Hugh had appeared suddenly in Mannington without his wife, without having let even his sister know he was coming. And he said she was better, was going on excellently! Something disagreeable, she rejoiced to think, must have happened. It might only be a temporary affair, a quarrel of no importance, but in that case Hugh would hardly have come back suddenly like this without a word to anybody. Agnes, too, was looking awkward and distressed. And how full of bitterness was Hugh’s remark to Ambrose that Edith wanted him to go out and keep her company! Evidently also Canon Alington had come to the same conclusion, for there was no mistaking the point of the masterly way in which he changed the conversation. What tact! If everyone behaved so beautifully there would never be any scandal at all. She felt that the imperfections of the world had their consoling points.