Saton was very angry now. He was only indifferently successful in his attempt to conceal the fact.
“You, too,” he muttered. “Well, we shall see. Naudheim has brains, and he has worked for many years. He had worked, indeed, for many years when the glimmerings of this thing first came to me. He could help me if he would, but if he will not, I can do it alone.”
“I wonder.”
“You do not believe in me,” he declared.
“No,” she answered, “I do not believe in you—not altogether!”
Rochester and his wife drove down the Park. Saton followed her eyes, noticing her slight start, and gazed after them with brooding face.
“Rochester is becoming quite a devoted husband,” he remarked, with a sneer.
“Quite,” she answered. “They spend most of their time together now.”
“And Lady Mary, I understand,” he went on, “has reformed. Yesterday she was opening the new wing of a hospital, and the day before she was speaking at a Girls’ Friendly Society meeting. It’s an odd little place, the world, or rather this one particular corner of it.”