My lord hummed again. 'I suspect we 're going to get a drubbing. This fellow here has had his French maitre d'armes. Show me your hand, sir.'
Weyburn smiled, and extended his right hand, saying: 'The wrist wants exercise.'
'Ha! square thumb, flesh full at the nails' ends; you were a bowler at cricket.'
'Now examine the palms, my lord; I judge by the lines on the palms,' Mrs.
Pagnell remarked.
He nodded to her and rose.
Coffee had not been served, she reminded him; it was coming in, so down he sat a yard from the table; outwardly equable, inwardly cursing coffee; though he refused to finish a meal without his cup.
'I think the palms do betray something,' said Mrs. Lawrence; and Aminta said: 'Everything betrays.'
'No, my dear,' Mrs. Pagnell corrected her; 'the extremities betray, and we cannot read the centre. Is it not so, my lord?'
'It may be as you say, ma'am.'
She was disappointed in her scheme to induce a general examination of palms, and especially his sphinx lordship's.