John Ardayre did not answer in words, but both women joined in his smile.
"Yes, we are worldlings," Lady Avonwier admitted, "just measuring people up for what they can give us, it is the only way though when the whole thing is such a rush!"
"I am so sorry for the poor husband," and Lady de la Paule's fat voice was kindly. "He does look such a wretched, cadaverous thing, with that black beard and those melancholy black eyes, and emaciated face. Do you think she beats him when they are alone?"
"Who knows? She is so primitive, she may be capable even of that!"
"Her clothes are not primitive," and John Ardayre lighted a cigarette.
"I don't think she really can be such a fool."
"I never suggested that she was a fool at all!" Lady Avonwier was decisive. "No one can be a fool who is as tenacious as she is—fools are vague people, who let things go. She is merely illiterate and stupid as an owl."
"I like your distinction between stupidity and foolishness!" John Ardayre often argued with Lady Avonwier; they were excellent friends.
"A stupid person is often a great rest and arrives—a fool makes one nervous and loses the game. But who is that walking with Amaryllis at the other side of the lake?"
John Ardayre looked up, and on over the water to the glory of the beech trees on the rising slope of the park, and there saw moving at the edge of them his wife and Verisschenzko, accompanied by two of the great tawny dogs.
"Oh! it is the interesting Russian whom we met in Paris, where all the charming ladies were supposed to be in love with him. He was to have come down for the whole three days. I suppose these Russian and Austrian rumours detained him, he has only arrived for to-night."