“Study the brute! Study his fads. Join the golf club, for one thing, and learn to listen intelligently, at the cost of a few miserable afternoons. I detest sports, and sporting clothes, and strong boots, and a red face, and tramping about mile after mile over rough ground. If we’d been intended to walk we should have had four legs; but I shall very soon pick up all that is necessary!”
“Why not go a little further, while you are about it, and play with your husband? You might take lessons from the pro. to get up your game, and then you could go to the links together in the afternoons. If you are determined to sacrifice yourself, you may as well do it thoroughly. He’d be so pleased!”
“I’m not so sure,” Grizel said shrewdly. “I’m his wife and he adores me, but he’d rather play golf with a boring man with a good handicap, and come home to find me sitting on a sofa looking pretty and fluffy, ready to acclaim his exploits, and listen to volumes about every hole, and the marvellous way in which he cleeked his tee off the bogie. Well! what is it? Don’t you call it a bogie?” She laughed herself, in sympathy with the other’s merriment, and ended with an involuntary: “Lady Cassandra! I’m so glad you came. Do let us often laugh together! I have such a comfortable feeling that you won’t be shocked at anything I say.”
“No one ever shocks me, except myself. You don’t know how glad I shall be. I’m really rather a lonely person, though I’ve lived here so long. It seems extraordinary to have had this intimate conversation with you on our very first meeting. I wouldn’t dream of discussing such matters with any other woman in the neighbourhood.”
“Of course not. You don’t know anyone else so well. We are intimates, so what’s the use of hedging?”
“I don’t want to hedge. I’m only too thankful to know it. It’s not healthy to live so much alone. One grows introspective. These last years I’ve been growing more and more absorbed in Cassandra Raynor.”
“Well! she is attractive, isn’t she? I’m going to do exactly the same. I felt it in my bones the moment you entered the room. You felt it too! I saw the little spark leap to your eyes.”
“It did. It’s quite true, but I ought to warn you that being associated with me, won’t make you any more popular in Chumley. Chumley doesn’t—approve of me! I expect you are sensitive enough to atmospheres to have grasped that fact for yourself?”
“I did. Yes. But why?”
“Oh, many reasons. I dress fashionably. I hate parish work. I don’t go to ‘teas,’ or give them in return. I’m lazy about calls. I’m not interested in the people, and I can’t pretend.”