She was undisturbed. Again he marvelled at the change in her.
"Is it so very extraordinary a question?" she said. "I have often wondered whether you meant to content yourself with your present life always. It is scarcely worthy of you, is it? You were born to other things than to live the life of a country gentleman. You dabble in literature, they say, and poke your stick into politics through the pages of the reviews. Why don't you take your coat off and play the game?"
Mannering was silent for several moments. He was, however, meditating his own reply less than studying his questioner. Her attitude was amazing to him. She watched him all the time, frowning.
"You are not usually so tongue-tied," she remarked, irritably. "Have you nothing to say to me?"
"I am wondering," he said, quietly, "what has given birth to this sudden interest in my proceedings. What does it matter to you how my days are spent, or what manner of use I make of them?"
"There was a time—" she began.
"A time irretrievably past," he interrupted, shortly.
"I am not so sure!" she declared, doubtfully.
"What has Borrowdean to do with this?" he asked her, abruptly.
"Borrowdean?"