Lady Maisie (to herself). Here, actually in the same carriage! Does he guess who I am? Somehow—— Well, he certainly is different from what I expected. I thought he would show more signs of having thought and suffered; for he must have suffered to write as he does. If mamma knew I had read his poems; that I had actually written to beg him not to refuse Aunt Albinia's invitation! He never wrote back. Of course I didn't put any address; but still, he could have found out from the Red Book if he'd cared. I'm rather glad now he didn't care.
Spurrell (to himself). Old girl seems as if she meant to be sociable; better give her an opening. (Aloud.) Hem! would you like the window down an inch or two?
Lady Cantire. Not on my account, thank you.
Spurrell (to himself). Broke the ice, anyway. (Aloud.) Oh, I don't want it down, but some people have such a mania for fresh air.
Lady Cantire (with a dignified little shiver). Have they? With a temperature as glacial as it is in here! They must be maniacs indeed!
Spurrell. Well, it is chilly; been raw all day. (To himself.) She don't answer. I haven't broken the ice.
[He produces a memorandum book.
Lady Maisie (to herself). He hasn't said anything very original yet. So nice of him not to pose! Oh, he's got a note-book; he's going to compose a poem. How interesting!
"HE'S GOING TO COMPOSE A POEM. HOW INTERESTING!"