Letters came to him frequently from his wife—long letters, in which she gives him a full account of her friendship with Sir Ralph’s widow, but not a word of the way in which she is managing the household.
‘I shouldn’t think the presence of the dowager will do much to enliven the Court,’ remarks Mrs Carnaby-Hicks spitefully.
‘She is not likely to teach my wife extravagance,’ laughs Sir Roland; ‘but Juliet and she seem to get on very well together.’
‘Perhaps she is a style that suits Lady Tresham,’ says his sister. ‘I have always understood she was a dowdy and a screw.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean to let my wife screw,’ replies the baronet uneasily. ‘She has had little enough pin-money hitherto, poor girl, and she shall have a liberal allowance now, if nothing else.’
‘Why do you call Lady Tresham “poor”?’ whispers Mabel in his ear. ‘I should have said she was the richest of women.’
‘Not quite that,’ he answers, wilfully misunderstanding her, ‘though she need have no fear for the future. But she has had barely enough for comfort until now.’
‘She has always had you,’ says Miss Moore, softly.
‘Some ladies might consider that an extra misfortune!’