"Yes, I will tell her that." Even while he spoke the words which would have once wrung his heart, he was visited by that strange flashing sense of unreality, of the insignificance and transitoriness of Angelica's existence. Like Mrs. Timberlake's antiquated standards of virtue, she belonged to a world which might vanish while he watched it and leave him still surrounded by the substantial structure of life.
"Then tell her now. I hear her in the hall," said Mary brusquely, as she turned away.
"It is not likely that she will come in here," he answered, but the words were scarcely spoken before Angelica's silvery tones floated to them.
"David, may I come in? I have news for you." An instant later, as Mary went out, with her air of arrogant sincerity, a triumphant figure in grey velvet passed her in the doorway.
"I saw Robert and Cousin Charles a moment ago, and they told me that we had really broken off relations with Germany——"
She had not meant to linger over the news, but while she was speaking, he crossed the room and closed the door gently behind her.
"Don't you think now we have done all that is necessary?" she demanded triumphantly. "Cousin Charles says we have vindicated our honour at last."
Blackburn smiled slightly. The sense of unreality, which had been vague and fugitive a moment before, rolled over and enveloped him. "It is rather like refusing to bow to a man who has murdered one's wife."
A frown clouded her face. "Oh, I know all you men are hoping for war, even Alan, and you would think an artist would see things differently."
"Do you think Alan is hoping for it?"