Fred Landers had telephoned that he had got back and was coming to dine; she fancied he had it on his mind not to let her feel her solitude while Anne was away; and she said to herself that from him at least she would get a glimpse of the truth.
Fred Landers, as became a friend of the family, was also beaming; but he called Lilla’s engagement a “solution” and not a “sacrifice”; and this made it easier for Kate at last to put her question: “How did it happen?”
He leaned back, pulling placidly at his after-dinner cigar, his old-fashioned square-toed pumps comfortably stretched to the fire; and for an instant Kate thought: “It might be pleasant to have him in that armchair every evening.” It was the first time such a possibility had occurred to her.
“How did she pull it off, you mean?” He screwed up his friendly blue eyes in a confidential grin. “Well, I’m naturally not initiated; but I suppose in one of the good old ways, Lilla probably knows most of the tricks—and I rather think Nollie Tresselton’s been aiding and abetting her. It’s been going on for the last six months, I know, and a shooting-box in South Carolina is mixed up with it. Of course they all have a theory that Lilla need only be happy to be good.”
“And what do you think about it?”
He shrugged. “Why, I think it’s an experiment for which Maclew is to furnish the corpus vile. But he’s a thick-skinned subject, and it may not hurt him much, and may help Lilla. We can only look on and hope.”
Kate sat pondering her next question. At length she said: “Was Mr. Maclew’s private secretary there?”
“That fellow Fenno? Yes; he was on duty.” She fancied he frowned a little.
“Why do you call him ‘that fellow’?”
He turned toward her, and she saw that his friendly brows were beetling. “Is it necessary to speak of him more respectfully? The fact is, I don’t fancy him—never did.”