There was a pleasant open space among the shrubberies, where several seats had been placed to command a dainty view of the garden and lawns, with the house in the distance, and here the party gradually converged, in desultory fashion, coming up and strolling off again, as the fancy inspired them.
Cigars were lighted, and a sense of sociability and enjoyment suffused itself, like a perfume, among the group.
Lady Engleton was delighted to see Miss Du Prel again. She did so want to continue the hot discussion they were having at the Red House that afternoon, when Mr. Temperley would be so horridly logical. He smiled and twisted his moustache.
“We were interrupted by some caller, and had to leave the argument at a most exciting moment.”
“An eternally interesting subject!” said Temperley; “what woman is, what she is not.”
“My dread is that presently, the need for dissimulation being over, all the delightful mystery will have vanished,” said Professor Theobald. “I should tire, in a day, of a woman I could understand.”
“You tempt one to enquire the length of the reign of a satisfactory enigma,” cried Lady Engleton.
“Precisely the length of her ability to mystify me,” he replied.
“Your future wife ought to be given a hint.”
“Oh! a wife, in no case, could hold me: the mere fact that it was my duty to adore her, would be chilling. And when added to that, I knew that she had placed it among the list of her obligations to adore me—well, that would be the climax of disenchantment.”