This was enough for Arthur, whose knowledge of the classics was that of the ordinary University graduate; he turned the subject with remarkable promptitude.
“Tell me,” he said, looking her straight in the face, “are you glad that I am coming?”
The grey eyes dropped a little before the boldness of his gaze, but she answered, unhesitatingly,
“Yes, for my own sake I am glad; but I fear that you will find it very dull.”
“Come, Angela, we must be off; I want to be home by a quarter to six,” said Philip just then.
She rose at once and shook hands with Arthur, murmuring, “Good-by till to-morrow morning,” and then with Lady Bellamy.
George, meanwhile, with the most unwonted hospitality, was pressing her father to stay to dinner, and, when he declined, announcing his intention of coming over to see him on the morrow. At last he got away, but not before Lady Bellamy had bid him a seemingly cordial adieu.
“You and your charming daughter must come and see me at Rewtham House, when we get in. What, have you not heard that Sir John has bought it from poor Maria Lee’s executors?”
Philip turned pale as death, and hurried from the room.
“It is good,” reflected Lady Bellamy, as she watched the effect of her shaft, “to let him know that I never forget.”