“Far more so. ‘Pretty!’—pretty is not at all the word for her. I think her distinctly beautiful,” Mr Auriol replied, with a sort of burst of enthusiasm which somehow seemed rather to disconcert Philip.
“I thought you would. That fair hair with such dark eyes is so very uncommon,” he replied quietly. And instantly it flashed upon Mr Auriol that they were speaking at cross purposes. He smiled to himself, but for reasons of his own, and being perfectly unaware of the impression his words had made upon his companion, he decided not to explain his mistake.
“Your sister, Mrs Leyland, is much better, I was glad to hear?” he said courteously, thinking it just as well to change the subject.
“Oh, much better, thank you; quite well, indeed. We shall be leaving immediately. In fact, we should have left already, but, to tell you the truth, when it became evident that Mrs Morison was sinking I persuaded Anna to stay on a little, just to see if perhaps we could be of some service to those poor children. They seemed so lonely.”
“It was very good of you,” said Godfrey warmly.
“I—I thought my uncle and aunt would have wished it, and Anna thought so too,” said Philip.
“But it was no use. I believe Lettice would rather have applied to any utter stranger than to us.”
“Really,” said Godfrey, surprised, and even a little shocked. “I had no idea they still felt so strongly. Perhaps it’s just as well you told me, for I see I shall have some rather ticklish business to manage. But forewarned is forearmed. I may call on Mrs Leyland some evening, I hope? I shall have very few here.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Philip. “She will be delighted to see you.”
Then the conversation drifted into general matters. Philip escorted Mr Auriol to one or two points of interest in the little town, and at ten o’clock precisely the latter found himself at the gate of the Villa Martine.