Nielsen bowed.
“And you?” he said. “Where have you been all this long time? Mon Dieu! Is it possible it is not yet a year?”
“We came to London first. Then in August we went to Whitby, and stayed six weeks, and got shrivelled by the winds. Then we were in Paris a month, and we’ve been here ever since November. How long have you been in England?”
“I arrived yesterday. I have been in Stockholm. One of my cousins had got into a—what do you call it—a hole, une affaire de cœur. I had a grreat deal of trouble to extrract him.” He talked of his cousin as if he had been a tooth, and soon found himself giving her an account of delicate matters in which a woman figured discreditably. Jocelyn was so sympathetic a listener, and so devoid of prudery, that insensibly one told her almost anything. She inspired a sense of comradeship.
He finished, however, by saying: “I suppose I should not have told you this yarrn. It has been on my mind a grreat deal, you see, so you must forgive me.”
At this moment tea arrived, followed by Mrs. Travis. She had changed her costume for a robe having a breastplate of many colours, and came in smiling affably above it. She greeted Nielsen with a smoothly dignified cordiality. She managed at the same time, by refusing to look at her niece above the waist, to convey to her a sense of unforgiven injury. For a large lady she was inimitably quick of expression—she never wasted time. She began to talk to Nielsen of old days and mutual friends; no allusion was made to the Legards, but in the middle of the conversation Jocelyn rose, and, on the pretence of drawing the blinds, went to the window. She dreaded to hear Giles’s name, fearing for her self-command.
It was almost dark now. Through the dim shapes of the tree branches the black water was seen spangled with the reflections of lights. The deep rumble of a heavy cart absorbed all other sounds. The wind had dropped, and a soft grey haze was creeping downwards from the clouds.
Nielsen came over presently, and stood beside her.
“That is verry interresting,” he said. “Nothing is plain except the black water beyond. Ah! it is like the attitude of our minds looking out into life, don’t you know.”
Jocelyn was faintly surprised; it was a remark unlike what she knew of him, but before she could answer he was saying good-bye.