“I hope that nothing is wrong,” she said, in a tone that was intended to disclaim all intention of discussing such matters with a menial. “I should be sorry if Mrs. Harrington was drawn into any legal difficulty; the law is so complicated.”
Susan was engaged in looking for a speck of dust on the mantelpiece, not for its own intrinsic value, but for the sake of Mary’s future. She had apparently no observation of value to offer upon the vexed subject of the law.
“I was rather afraid,” pursued Mrs. Ingham-Baker gravely, “that Mrs. Harrington might be unduly incensed against that poor boy, Luke FitzHenry; that in a moment of disappointment, you know, she might be making some--well, some alteration in her will to the detriment of the boy.”
Susan stood for a moment in front of the lady, with a strange little smile of amusement among the wrinkles of her face.
“Yes, that may be,” she said, and quietly left the room.
CHAPTER II. A MAN DOWN.
Caress the favourites, avoid the unfortunate, and trust nobody.
The atmosphere of Mrs. Harrington’s drawing-room seemed to absorb the new-found manhood of the two boys, for they came forward shyly, overawed by the consciousness of their own boots, by the conviction that they carried with them the odour of cigarette smoke and failure.
“Well, my dears,” said the Honourable Mrs. Harrington, suddenly softened despite herself by the sight of their brown young faces. “Well, come here and kiss me.”
All the while she was vaguely conscious that she was surprising herself and others. She had not intended to treat them thus. Mrs. Harrington was a woman who had a theory of life--not a theory to talk about, but to act upon. Her theory was that “heart” is all nonsense. She looked upon existence here below as a series of contracts entered into with one’s neighbour for purposes of mutual enjoyment or advantage. She thought that life could be put down in black and white. Which was a mistake. She had gone through fifty years of it without discovering that for the sake of some memory--possibly a girlish one--hidden away behind her cold grey eyes, she could never be sure of herself in dealing with man or boy whose being bore the impress of the sea.