Weyburn had senses to read the word "schoolmaster" in repetition behind her shut mouth. He was sharply sensible of a fall.
The task with his papers occupied him. If he had a wish, it was to sink so low in her esteem as to be spurned. A kick would have been a refreshment. Yet he was unashamed of the cause invoking it. We are instruments to the touch of certain women, and made to play strange tunes.
"Mr. Cuper flourishes?"
"The school exists. I have not been down there. I met Mr. Shalders yesterday. He has left the school."
"You come up from Olmer?"
"I was at Olmer last week, Lady Ormont."
An involuntary beam from her eyes thanked him for her title at that juncture of the dialogue. She grew more spirited.
"Mr. Shalders has joined the Dragoons, has he?"
"The worthy man has a happy imagination. He goes through a campaign daily."
"It seems to one to dignify his calling."