Mrs. Chester was furious with Mrs. Atwood. She invaded her husband's dressing-room just before dinner to voice her indignation.
"I have no patience with the woman," she exclaimed; "she's a regular spoil-sport. Any one with half an eye or an ounce of sympathy can see how the land lies between Lallie and young Ballinger, and yet she never leaves them alone for an instant. She seems to me to follow them about on purpose."
"I think you're a bit hard on her. She must go about with some one, you couldn't expect her to stop in her room; and after all, how can she divine that Lallie and Ballinger are in love? They're too well-bred to show it if they are, and you have only your supposition to go on. I think she has taken rather a fancy to Lallie, like the rest of us."
"Fancy!" Mrs. Chester repeated scornfully. "If there is one person in this house that Mrs. Atwood cordially dislikes, it's Lallie. Mark my words, she means mischief, though how or why I can't tell; but I am convinced that she got you to ask her here simply that she might meet Sidney Ballinger--and I wish I'd never seen her."
The Pinnels party went in an omnibus to the Primrose meeting in Fareham. Ballinger secured a seat next Lallie, and under cover of the general conversation demanded:
"Why will you never give me a minute alone? Why do you seem to avoid me so?"
"Why, I'm with you all day long, it seems to me; and as I've nothing to say to you that mightn't be shouted from the housetops, why should solitude be necessary?"
"I have a great deal to say to you that couldn't possibly be shouted. Will you come for a walk to-morrow afternoon? I'm sure you don't sleep all Sunday afternoon. Will you promise? And without that chap, Chester, mind--just you and me."
"What about your friend Mrs. Atwood? She may be fond of walking."
"Confound her! Will you promise?"