To his relief, however, Winifred did not so much as utter an exclamation. If he had been quick to notice, he might have observed a little proud up-drawing of her head, and a sudden light in her eyes; but we are all apt to read only those signs for which we are on the lookout, and the Squire drew a long breath of relief.
“What do you think of this?” he said, when he had finished.
“Did Mr Pitt really tell you such an absurd story?” said Winifred, smiling.
Her treating the matter lightly was unfortunate, for her father had been made so wretched all day that it irritated him to have it supposed that he was throwing away his sympathies; and his love of contradiction was such that every instinct of his nature arrayed him on the side that was assailed, so that he began at once to adopt Mr Pitt’s opinion as his own, to hasten to its defence, to run his thoughts more keenly over its possibilities. He flustered a little directly.
“It’s very well for you to laugh, since you don’t understand anything at all about it. Is Pitt a likely man to concoct a bundle of lies?”
“I don’t know, I am sure,” she said, looking at him with astonishment. “But you do not mean that anything he could say would make you believe such a story of Anthony?”
“Well, explain it, explain it,” said the Squire grimly, “that’s all.”
Winifred sat forward, and began to speak with more impetuosity.
“That Anthony should—” she began, and then suddenly broke off and laughed outright. “It is so very ridiculous!” she said.
“I don’t see the absurdity,” growled Mr Chester. “I don’t see how Pitt can be mistaken, or how Anthony can get over the thing. You women run away with your own opinions, without ever stopping to hear reason; but other people will put two and two together. It is a very bad business.”