“Do you know what you are doing?”
There was a momentary hesitation before the answer came.
“Who does?”
The defiance was already tinged with uneasiness, and facing the keen old eyes Teresa dropped her own.
“Then I will tell you,” said Mrs Brodrick gravely. “You are playing a very dangerous game.”
“Everything that is worth anything has its dangers,” said Teresa, trying to speak lightly.
“But we have no right to push other people into them.”
“Push!” Now the marchesa laughed outright. “Push! Oh, be just. Do you pretend to say it would be possible to push Mr Wilbraham into any position he hadn’t deliberately chosen? You know better. He will walk round and round, and look at it closely from every side, and advance only when he is convinced it is eminently desirable and safe. He’s a hundred years old if he’s a day.”
“That’s as you like. He is a good man.”
Teresa, imagining—perhaps with truth—that she detected a shade of regret in the tone, fired up promptly.