Tatham and his mother looked at each other aghast.
"Run after her!" said Victoria in his ear. "Take this shawl!" She handed him a wrap she had brought in upon her arm.
"Yes—it's December," said Boden, smiling, to Lady Tatham; "but perhaps"—the accent was ironical—"when she comes back the seasons will have changed!"
The session broke up in excited conversation, of which Faversham was the centre.
"This is final?" said Undershaw, eying him keenly. "You intend to stand by it?"
"'Fierce work it were to do again!'" said Faversham, in a quotation recognized by Undershaw, who generally went to bed with a scientific book on one side of him, and a volume of modern poets on the other. Faversham was now radiant. He stood with his arm round Lydia. Victoria had her hand.
* * * * *
Meanwhile in the Italian garden and through the yew hedges, Daphne fled, and Apollo pursued. At last he caught her, and she sank upon a garden seat. He put the shawl round her, and stood with his hands in his pockets surveying her.
"What was the matter, Felicia?" he asked her, gently.
"It is ridiculous!" she said, sobbing. "Why wasn't I asked? I don't want a guardian! I won't have you for a guardian!" And she beat her foot angrily on the paved path.