“I wish it were the last of September,” replied Lee.
“So do I—or that we were in California. I feel as if some one had a lighted fuse in his hand and was hunting for dynamite. It’s really terrible to think what might happen if that man lost his temper and opened his mouth.”
“I don’t want to think of it. And where there are so many people nothing is really likely to happen; there are so many small diversions.”
But she broached the subject to Cecil as they were walking along the corridors to their tower some hours later. Apparently they were the best of friends again, for Cecil was not the man to do anything by halves. He had not even returned to the subject; and if he were still wounded and unquiet he gave no sign.
“I wish that horrid Mr. Pix would go,” said Lee tentatively. “He’s so out of it, I wonder he doesn’t.”
“I can’t imagine what he came for. I never saw a man look such an ass on the moors.”
“He must get on your father’s nerves.”
“I fancy he does. I suppose Emmy asked him here. She could hardly avoid it, she’s so intimate with Miss Pix. By the way, that woman actually talked at dinner to-night; you may not have noticed, but I had her on my left; I suppose I’m in Emmy’s bad graces for some reason or other. But she really seemed bent on making herself entertaining. She has something in her head, I fancy. If less of it were snobbery she wouldn’t be half bad.”
“Fancy what you escaped. If you had never come to America they might have married you to the Pixes.”
“The person has yet to be born who could do my marrying for me,” said Cecil; and there was no doubt that he knew himself.