“I only meant,” I stammered, “that there have been many responsibilities and—er—disappointments accumulating for me since I succeeded.”
“But surely that’ll soon be over,” she queried. “It’s only a matter of lawyer’s business, is it?”
“They’re terrible people when they get you in their hands,” said I vaguely. “But tell me how you have enjoyed your trip so far.”
She looked back at me very straight. “I told you when we left London I shouldn’t enjoy it, and I can’t honestly say I have. The monotony got to be terrible.”
I had meant all references to what had happened in London to be forgotten. I did not think it kind to refer to them again in this outspoken way.
“But—but surely Denvarre and—and Garlicke made it pleasant for you,” I hazarded. “It must have made it awfully nice for you having them all the time.”
“Of course they have been attentive, if that’s what you mean,” she said, with a slightly contemptuous inflection in her voice. “But one can get tired of even undiluted attention. I’m sure I’ve done my best to quarrel with Lord Denvarre several times, but he’s far too polite.”
I didn’t know what to think. Did she openly mean to give me to understand that she had accepted Denvarre for the position? Or were they simply indulging in the luxury of their first quarrel? Or was it just her off-hand way of speaking of him? I found no answer.
“Now, if we’d only had the prophetic instinct and known that you were going to start on this delightful trip, we should have waited and come with you. You’d have invited us, wouldn’t you?”
I smiled to myself as I reflected that Lady Delahay would have found an extremely polite but explicit refusal to any such proposal. But I answered courteously: