“When, at the first, he gave me a letter for her one day, and slipped a sovereign into my hand, and nodded, and smiled at me, I knew him right enough. He never could be true to aught.”
“Did thee keep the sovereign?” Faith asked anxiously.
“Ay, that I did. If he was for giving his money away, I’d take it fast enough. The gold gave father boots for a year. Why should I mind?”
Faith’s face suffused. How low was Eglington’s estimate of humanity!
In the silence that followed the door of her room opened, and her father entered. He held in one hand a paper, in the other a candle. His face was passive, but his eyes were burning.
“David—David is coming,” he cried, in a voice that rang. “Does thee hear, Faith? Davy is coming home!” A woman laughed exultantly. It was not Faith. But still two years passed before David came.
CHAPTER XVIII. TIME, THE IDOL-BREAKER
Lord Windlehurst looked meditatively round the crowded and brilliant salon. His host, the Foreign Minister, had gathered in the vast golden chamber the most notable people of a most notable season, and in as critical a period of the world’s politics as had been known for a quarter of a century. After a moment’s survey, the ex-Prime-Minister turned to answer the frank and caustic words addressed to him by the Duchess of Snowdon concerning the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. Presently he said:
“But there is method in his haste, dear lady. He is good at his dangerous game. He plays high, he plunges; but, somehow, he makes it do. I’ve been in Parliament a generation or so, and I’ve never known an amateur more daring and skilful. I should have given him office had I remained in power. Look at him, and tell me if he wouldn’t have been worth the backing.”