"The reward will be limited I'm afraid," she replied, "for my temper is unaccountably out of sorts this afternoon."
"And, if one may make bold to inquire, why out of sorts, dear Miss St. Quentin?"
He sat down on the parapet near her, crossed his legs, and fell to nursing his left knee. The woman of the black bodice went up across the pale stubble to her companions. She talked to them, nodding her head in the direction of the bridge.
"I have promised to do a certain thing, and having promised, of course I must do it."
Honoria looked away towards the harvesters up there among the gold of the corn.
"And yet, now I have committed myself, thinking it over I find I dislike doing it warmly."
"The statement of the case is just a trifle vague," Mr. Quayle remarked. "But—if one may brave a suggestion—supersede a first duty by a second and, of course, a greater. With a little exercise of imagination, a little good-will, a little assistance from a true friend thrown in perhaps, it is generally quite possible to manage that, I think."
"And you are prepared to play the part of the true friend?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Then go to Cairo for the winter with Evelyn Tobermory. You must take no low gowns—ah! poor little soul, it is pathetic, though—she's forbidden to wear them. And—let me stay here!" Honoria said.