"No," she said, smiling. "Why do you imagine this?"
"Jim was preoccupied. I asked him for matches and he gave me his cigarette case."
"He is often preoccupied," Evelyn rejoined, with a careless laugh. "I expect he was thinking about his dykes; he talked about the marsh."
Mordaunt studied her. She was calm and looked amused by his curiosity. Moreover, her suggestion was plausible.
"Jim is not always happy in his choice of subjects, but I won't sympathize with you," he said. "You could have stopped him if you had liked. You often stop me."
"I suppose that is so," Evelyn agreed. "For one thing, it is not much trouble. You know when one is bored."
"Your tastes are mine; we belong to the same school. It makes for understanding."
"After all," said Evelyn, "one likes something new."
Mordaunt laughed and said he must go, and when his car rolled away Evelyn mused. Lance's remark was justified; they did belong to the same school, and in the main their views agreed. This had some drawbacks, but it had advantages. Novelty was stimulating for a time, but soon lost its charm; one was safe if one held fast by the things one knew and valued, even if one's standard of value was not altogether just. Evelyn admitted her cynically philosophic mood was strange, but the dreary day accounted for something, and perhaps a reaction from last night's thrill had begun. A few minutes afterwards Mrs. Halliday came in and they talked about household matters.
In the meantime, Mordaunt drove to the town and stopped at a lawyer's office. There were three partners in the firm which managed Bernard Dearham's business; two sober, white-haired gentlemen, and one who was young. The others gave the house weight and respectability, but Holbrook supplied the driving force and Mordaunt imagined his partners did not know where he was leading them. Holbrook's room, in a tall old house that looked across a quiet square, was handsomely furnished, and Mordaunt sat down in a comfortable chair.