When Sara reached home, she was dismayed to hear that Lord Reckage had called during her absence and was waiting for her return. The prospect of an interview with him seemed so disagreeable that she walked first to the library, and sat there alone, for some moments, before she could summon the presence of mind which every sense warned her would be required for the ordeal. At last, with a pinched heart, she went up the great staircase, and found Reckage writing at her own table in the drawing-room. He turned quickly, and jumped to his feet at the rustle of her dress. He was looking unusually handsome, she thought, very animated, very dashing.
“You will forgive these clothes,” said he, “but I have ordered Pluto round at four o'clock, and I am going for a long ride.”
“What a strange idea!” she answered, taking off her gloves. “Where are you going?”
“To Hampstead Heath. I need the air and the exercise. I have to compose a speech.”
His brow darkened, and he pushed back with his foot a log which was falling from the open grate.
“No, not that speech. Another. Disraeli has asked me to go in his stead to Hanborough. I don't like to attach over-importance to the invitation, but he must mean it as an encouragement. Evidently, he wishes to show that Aumerle and the rest are without any shadow of right in their attacks. I have been above five years working up this society, and if, at the end of that time, I am president only by dint of family interest, be assured the situation cannot be worth having. When I leave, it will go all to pieces.”
“But you don't intend to leave, surely?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“Have you hinted at resignation?”