Matters appeared to have reached a deadlock. Steele had nothing to say! Prudence had nothing to say! Miss Agatha had no desire to help the situation by bridging the silence; and Mr Graynor had nothing further to add to his reproof. He seated himself. Since Miss Agatha remained standing Steele had no option but to do the same: he felt increasingly awkward, and wished he had taken advantage of Prudence’s permission and remained out of it.
“Sit down, sit down,” exclaimed Mr Graynor suddenly, with an accession of ill-humour as he became aware of the general strain. “Why is every one standing?”
His intervention scarcely relieved matters. Steele said he thought he must be going, and murmured something about an early start on the morrow; he had merely called to make his adieux. Miss Agatha’s prompt acceptance of this explanation for the brevity of his visit was not flattering; but Mr Graynor, awakening tardily to a sense of the lack of cordiality, protested against his leaving so hurriedly.
“William will be in presently,” he said. “You had better wait and see him. And we’ll have tea. I see no object in deferring tea, Agatha, until a given hour.”
“Prudence,” Agatha commanded, “ring the bell, please.”
Steele attempted to forestall the girl; their hands touched as each reached out to press the button.
“Oh, Lord!” he murmured under his breath, and caught her eye and smiled dryly. “It will require something more efficacious than dock leaves to counteract these nettles.”
She drew back without replying, but her face was charged with meaning, and he detected the hidden laughter in her eyes. It was well for her, he decided, that she could find anything to laugh at in the dismal situation; for himself he would gladly have escaped and sacrificed the tea; a whisky and soda would have suited him better at the moment.
The tea, when it came, caused little unbending, but it provided a legitimate excuse for moving from Miss Agatha’s side, and it gave him an opportunity for a few minutes’ talk with Prudence, a disjointed, embarrassed talk under the close observation of the rest. Steele was conscious of those watchful eyes, of the listening hang in the conversation when he approached the girl. Prudence also was conscious of this silent manifestation of vigilant criticism on the part of her family; but she had reached a stage of recklessness which moved her to openly disregard the condemnation in Agatha’s eyes when Steele, having handed the cake to her, remained beside her for a few minutes, and held her in conversation.
“I have been reconsidering what you said in the wood,” he observed, “about the influence of others in regard to the enjoyment of life. You were entirely right.”