“But these labels mean nothing, mother.”
“Heavens! That a child of mine should say so!”
Chandos obstinately revealed itself. Cicely remarked tartly:
“It happens that Mr. Grimshaw does not label himself as a Radical. He detests party politics. I have his own word for that. Are you angry with him because he disturbs our peace?”
“Angry? And peace! I despair of peace anywhere. Still, one expects consideration from one’s own people. And at such a time as this . . .”
She rose majestically and swept out of the dining-room. Cicely lingered to ring the bell and to pull herself together. How stupid to argue with her mother upon subjects like politics! And in a true sense Grimshaw was a Radical. He went to the root of things—an uncompromising reformer.
When she joined her mother Lady Selina smiled sweetly and silently upon her.
Alone in her bedroom Cicely attempted the impossible—an adjustment of utterly conflicting interests. If she considered herself, if she broke her engagement, Lady Selina would be confronted by the chief medical officer. It is likely that an inexperienced girl exaggerated the powers wielded by that official. But Lady Selina had made plain to her that ultimately the lady of the manor would be held responsible for any abuses discovered on that manor. Already she had a glimpse of a dreadful photograph of her mother in some daily illustrated paper. And beneath . . . a scarifying lie! Her uncle, as a many-acred magnate, had not escaped criticism.
Lady Selina Chandos at the mercy of the Radical Press!
She remembered that Tiddy had hinted at such a catastrophe. And at the time Cicely laughed. And then Tiddy, resenting ridicule, had cited cases. According to Miss Tiddy, landlord-baiting to certain journalists was more fun than drawing badgers.