“Heavens, no! Do you think I’m breaking from Arthur with the deliberate intention of—of engaging myself to somebody else?”
“Aren’t you? You do care for him; he must care for you. And there you are!”
Chandos silence. Tiddy continued:
“I understand that it would be tactless to mention Mr. Grimshaw to Lady Selina, although that—your feeling for him, I mean—justifies you, forces you, to break this engagement. I believe I should tell my mother. However, I am I and you are you. If I wanted a man, and he chose to behave like a dumbwaiter loaded with rare and refreshing fruit, I—well, I should help myself.”
“I believe you would.”
“I’m glad I don’t wear your shoes, because I take a smaller size, but I try to stand in them. You can tell your mother the plain facts: you accepted a good fellow, not loving him. You find yourself unable to love him. As a gentlewoman—ring that bell—you retire as gracefully as possible and you invite her to help you.”
“Yes,” assented Cicely.
Further talk advanced them but little on the only way.
V
A war tea was not spread that afternoon. Under the walnut tree, supposed to keep flies at a distance, sat Lady Selina in front of a table not groaning but pleasantly purring beneath pre-war delicacies. The Queen Anne silver shimmered delightfully—it seemed to say to Tiddy: “We impose ourselves because of our quality; we are of finer metal, less alloy in us.” To behold Lady Selina making tea was a privilege. She disdained the coarser blends. Her white hands hovered, as if in benediction, above her equipage. The cups and saucers were early Worcester. Once a collector had said protestingly: “My dear Lady, these ought to be in a cabinet.” Lady Selina had replied blandly: “Really?” In her drawing-room priceless bits of Chelsea were at the mercy of housemaids. To lock up such objects seemed to Lady Selina equivalent to putting a price upon them. It meant advertising your own possessions, inviting envy as well as admiration. The vieille souche took all that for granted. Age, not rarity, sanctified porcelain and furniture—age and use. There is a story of some duke who asked the village curate if he liked the ducal claret. The curate replied thoughtlessly: “It’s very good, your Grace.” Whereupon the great man growled out: “I didn’t ask you, sir, if my claret was good; I asked you if you liked it.” In this same spirit Lady Selina surveyed all guests. She hoped graciously that they liked their entertainment. If they didn’t she remained blandly indifferent.