“What men are going?” he asked.
“Oh, Lord Birmingham, and Mr. Wemyss, and Mr. Van Kull—and—and Mr. ——”
“Derwent,” said Arthur. “I know.”
“Mr. Derwent? dear me,” said Miss Duval. “I wonder what he’s going for!”
“But where’s Mr. Gower?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t know,” said she. “He can’t come, I believe. Kill Van Kull is going to drive.”
“You can’t fancy what terrible things Mr. Derwent has been telling us, Mr. Sewall. We quite needed you last night. He has been saying we are none of us Christians.” It was Mrs. Malgam who spoke.
“We are not,” said Sewall. “Christianity is a very fine thing; but, like many another, quite too fine for this world. If people could practise it, there would be no need of it; it would be heaven here and now, and a divine revelation quite superfluous.”
“And are you really going to drive, Mr. Van Kull?” said Mrs. Hay. “You are such a dangerous man, I shall not trust myself with you—on the box-seat.” And she cast down her eyes, while Van Kull gave her one of the dark glances that made his pale face so famous.
“Would you confess as much in your paper, Mr. Sewall?” said Derwent, in answer to his speech.