“In one sense, it is a preposterous folly, but I am not quite sure that folly is not now and then better than wisdom,” he added. “It has certainly proved to be so in my case.”
“No doubt.” Mrs. Acton’s tone was suggestive. “It is, however, Miss Hamilton I am most interested in.”
Nasmyth spread one hand out forcibly. “I want you to understand that she is absolutely free. I have only told you because you once mentioned that you considered her a ward of yours. Nothing will be said to anybody else, and, if she should change her mind, I will not complain. In fact, I have decided that it would be most fitting for me to go away.”
“I think,” asserted Mrs. Acton, “you have been either too generous or not quite generous enough. The trouble with men of your kind is that when for once they take the trouble to reflect, they become too cautious.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp the point of that.”
“You should either have said nothing, which is the course you ought to have adopted, or a little more. I fancy Violet would have been just as pleased if you had shown yourself determined to make sure of her.”
Nasmyth stood silent, and Mrs. Acton, who surveyed him again with thoughtful eyes, was not surprised that he should have appealed to the girl’s imagination. The man was of a fine lean symmetry, and straight of limb. The stamp of a clean life was on him, showing itself in the brightness of his eyes and his clear bronzed skin, while he had, as Wisbech had said, the classical Nasmyth features. These things, as Mrs. Acton admitted, counted for something, while the faint lines upon his face, and the suggestive hardness that now and then crept into it, were, she decided, likely to excite a young woman’s curiosity.
“Well,” she said, “I feel myself considerably to blame, and I may admit that I had at first intended to make my husband get rid of you. I really don’t know why I didn’t. You can make what you like of that.”
Nasmyth bowed with a deferential smile, and she laughed.