“He did care—that's the pity of it,” he said slowly, “but what can you expect?—you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she should have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. Horringford was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and absorbed in his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world outside the stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like honesty she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in common. She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted apart and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell.”
“And what do you propose to do, Peter?” Craven's sudden question was startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation.
Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. “I shall listen to all Alex has to say,” he said at last, “then I shall tell her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade her to ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter.”
“Why?”
“Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very different people. I know—because I have seen. It's an idea, it may work. Anyhow it's worth trying.”
“But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?”
“She will—before I've done with her,” replied Peters grimly, and then he laughed. “I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she won't be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She can ease off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for finally withdrawing.”
“You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?” said Miss Craven, with a note of challenge in her voice.
Peters shrugged. “I blame them both. But above all I blame the system that has been responsible for the trouble.”
“You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? She was such a child—”