And all that poor Mr. Bradfield got by his talk with her was the loss of his dance; for Chris went away and hid herself, rather than walk through the quadrille with him.
The next day was the faded, uncomfortable, heavy-eyed day which usually succeeds to a night of unusual dissipation. Mrs. Graham-Shute put the climax to the general discomfort by insisting that they should all, directly luncheon was over, drive some miles in the cold to inspect ruins.
“But why in the world to-day?” as Lilith grumbled aloud. “As they’ve stood there since A.D. 250, mightn’t they manage to stand there a few days longer?”
But Mrs. Graham-Shute saw no reason in an point of view but her own. They had an afternoon to spare; there were ruins to be seen; therefore ruins must be seen on that spare afternoon. So they all drove off in the cold, looking very blue about the nose, and feeling too cold to go to sleep, even under a mountain of rugs and furs, and nobody at all got any pleasure out of the expedition except John Bradfield, who drove Lilith over in his dog-cart, and managed, by steady persistence, to get Chris to consent to drive back with him. He was so gentle, so humble, touched just the right chords of gratitude in her so deftly, under his seeming clumsiness, that the girl could not hold out against him. However, she made her own conditions.
“Mind,” she said, holding up a warning forefinger in its pretty glove, as he made a collection of rugs for her comfort, and held out his hand to help her to mount, radiant with his victory, “you are not to try to converse with me except upon the subjects I specially choose, for I’m too cold to be civil, unless I have everything my own way.”
Mr. Bradfield, glad to get her upon any terms, consented with a roar of laughter. But Mrs. Graham-Shute, who overheard this speech from Chris, was overwhelmed by the girl’s audacity.
“I wonder how my cousin puts up with such impudence,” she said, in a tone of exasperation, as she floundered, panting, through the mud which, at this season, was an indispensable adjunct to the ruins. “She puts on all the airs of a person of consequence, like her horrible old mother. Thank goodness, I’ve escaped an afternoon with her, at any rate.”
“That’s just what she said of you when she refused to go, my dear,” said her husband, gently, in her ear, as, tottering under her weight, he helped her into the landau.
Chris need not have felt apprehensive. Mr. Bradfield had thought matters over, and decided that the fortress was not to be stormed, that his best plan lay in starving out the garrison by a long and careful siege. Besides, it was too cold for ardent lovemaking; their jaws were stiff as they drove in the face of the winter wind. So that Chris was pleased to find that her drive back with Mr. Bradfield was a good deal pleasanter than her drive out had been in the company of Mrs. Graham-Shute.
It was Mr. Bradfield who chose the topics of conversation after all. For he was so anxious to prove his good faith that he gave her no opportunity of starting any subject of her own, but beguiled the way by stories of his life on Australian sheep farms. His experience had been hard, and some of his tales of hardship and privation, while they had the desired effect of securing the young girl’s sympathy, made her shudder.