The sneer was thinly veiled. Rumbold hesitated, and then said: “I won't pretend not to know what you're hinting at, but why do you do it? Have you anything against Fielding?”
“I find him entirely insupportable,” replied Randall calmly.
“That may make you wish to suspect him, but it is hardly a reason for doing so,” said Rumbold.
“I stand rebuked,” bowed Randall.
They had reached the gate by this time. Rumbold turned, and held out his hand. “Well, I don't know that I actually meant to rebuke you,” he said, “but I am a much older man than you are, Matthews, and perhaps you will allow me to advise you not to drop that sort of remark in your cousin's hearing. For one thing, it isn't particularly kind, and for another I have an idea that she's got quite enough to worry her in that quarter without having anything added.”
Randall's eyes opened wide. Edward Rumbold was momentarily startled by their curious brilliance, and could not be sure that the expression they held was a pleasant one. The next instant the insolent lids had drooped over them again. “Is that so?” Randall said. “I am quite in your debt.”
He wended his way back to the house, and entered the drawing-room to find his two aunts, their own differences forgotten for the moment, engaged in extolling the virtues of their late guest, and deploring the vulgarity of his wife.
“Such a cultured man!” sighed Mrs Matthews. “One cannot help wondering —”
“— what he saw in her,” cut in Stella. “He saw a pretty face, and a kind heart.”
“That hat!” shuddered Mrs Matthews. “The commonest shade of pink! And at her age, too!”