"Is she a subject for discussion in a mixed company?" said I, to relieve the tension.
"I should say not," said Mary. "But Reggie has been so weak that there is no help for it."
"The victim of circumstances, perhaps," said I, with generous unwisdom.
"People who are weak always are the victims of circumstances. If Reggie had only been firmer at the beginning, we should not now be a laughing-stock for everybody. To my mind the first requisite in a master of hounds is resolution of character."
"Hear, hear," said the occupant of the breakfast table, sotto voce.
The miserable Brasset, whose pinkness and perplexity were ever increasing, fairly quailed before the Great Lady's forensic power.
"Do you think, Mrs. Catesby, I ought to resign?" said he, with the humility that invites a kicking.
"Not now, surely; it would be too abject. If you felt the situation was beyond you, you should have resigned at the beginning. You must show spirit, Reggie. You must not submit to being trampled on publicly by—by——"
The Great Lady paused here, not because she was at a loss for a word, but because, like all born orators, she had an instinctive knowledge of the value of a pause in the right place.
"By a circus rider from Vienna," she concluded in a level voice.