Rachel really was strange. She seemed to dislike the idea of Breton's redemption. He had thought that she would have been delighted.
She kissed him. "Nothing's ever to come between us again," she whispered. He pressed her hand.
"I must just look in upon Roddy," he said, and they went down together.
III
The thought that instantly occurred to her was that she must not allow Uncle John to talk to Roddy about Breton. She saw some innocent word falling, like a match into a haystack, and starting immediately the most horrible blaze.
There were other thoughts behind that—thought of her grandmother's actions when she heard of this, thoughts of Roddy's probable decision about it, thoughts that she, Rachel, might prove to be the one person in the world who had helped to drive Breton out, thoughts intolerable were they, for a moment, indulged—but now, as she walked, laughing, downstairs, with Uncle John, her one urgent resolve was to prevent an immediate scene.
She need not have feared. Massiter, stout, red-faced, hearty and stupid, held the stage. He had been holding it since three o'clock and Roddy's white face showed fatigue, his eyes were half closed and, although he smiled, his mind, distressed and exhausted, was far away.
Rachel's glance at him told her that his visitor had been too much for him. When she saw Roddy like this she longed to have him alone, away from all the world, to love him and care for him; although, in hard fact, when he was worn out, Peters was of more value than she. She looked at him now, loved him and was also afraid; she hated Lord Massiter, at this moment, and hoped that he would go.
He talked in his cheerful voice, as though he were addressing an assembly in the open air. He spoke of the hunting (pretty rotten), of the musical comedies (absolutely rotten), of our tactics in South Africa (rotten of course beyond all words), and of farming on his land in the country (unspeakably rotten), and was cheerful about all these things. He knew that he had been self-sacrificing and had spent a whole afternoon in cheering up "that poor devil, Seddon. Got to lie on his back all his life, poor chap. Active beggar he was too."