“No, I don’t think so,” she replied thoughtfully. “I think Mr. Barringcourt must have recognised the Golden Priest has no sense of humour, and would resent instead of forgiving opinions.”
“Your tone proves appearances are deceptive. I thought by your manner you had changed your estimate of him.”
Rosalie half shuddered, and stretched her hands to the blaze.
“I was simply carrying out a lesson in obedience. And yet my estimate of him has changed. I find him so uninteresting.”
“It is the common lot of most of us to be uninteresting.”
“Oh, no, indeed. You are interesting; so is Sir John; so was—was—so have been many people I have met—Mr. Barringcourt, for instance. But this man is petrified by ambition. It is eating up his heart and head.”
“Well, I am not particularly fond of him myself, as I have told you. Still, I am surprised that with your views you should find Mr. Barringcourt interesting.”
Rosalie’s brows knitted.
“I don’t understand him. I never did understand him. Have you ever met anyone, Miss Crokerly, who at times struck you as being very, very good, and at others almost cruel? And that is how he appears to me.”
“But you know so little of him.”