Lal held her quietly. Presently he said: “I think you’re mistaken, Angel.”
“Do you?” Angela said, looking up with tears on her lashes. “Do you really, Lal?”
“I do. Fane isn’t exactly an ogre, you know.” Lal smiled. “I shall be quite ready to give you away to him.”
“And glad, too, I expect: ungrateful boy that you are!” Angela released herself, and began with unsteady fingers to pull out her crushed curls. “Wait till you’re married yourself, and see how you like it!”
“I see no immediate prospect of that,” said Lal. “And now, does it not occur to you that we might go down to dinner?”
Angela slipped her hand through his arm, and so they descended the stairs. They made a handsome couple, though Lal looked quieter and lazier even than was his wont. On the last step, Angela came to a pause of dismay; she coloured crimson, snatched her hand from Lal’s arm, and fled into the drawing-room. Lal hesitated; he also changed colour; finally, he made a very formal little bow, and followed his sister without speaking. Dolly and Bernard had just been admitted to the hall.
“I guess that chap’s gone cracked!” said Bernard, sotto voce. But Dolly held her peace.
There were present at the dinner only the house party, the Laurensons and Mrs. Prideaux, besides Dr. Maude, whose faint, acidulated cynicism, said Ella Merton, was like a sauce piquante. The voice of justice told Dolly that she must let Lal know he was out of disgrace, but it did not say that she was bound to explain herself; and so, after smiling at him and taking his hand when they met in the drawing-room, she eschewed his society like the very plague. She set herself to behave nicely; she said little, and that little discreetly, and kept under the wing of her hostess. She was amused to see that Angela Laurenson was pursuing the same tactics, except that she had chosen Maud Prideaux for her house of defence.
Dolly went down with Norman Merton, and found herself placed at table between him and Lal. She gave Lal the view of a neck as white as milk, and a rich sweep of chestnut hair glossed with light like the roll of a stream at a weir; and she talked to her host all the evening. Merton was shrewd and pleasant, and had plenty to say. Twice Lal addressed her: to his first speech she gave a brief, cool answer over her shoulder; to the second she gave no answer at all. Lal did not repeat his words, nor did he again try to catch her attention. He turned quietly to his partner; he could afford to be patient because he was resolute.
Bernard also was content to be patient, but within reasonable limits, which he felt that Angela had overpassed; she wore his roses, but she had not given him a word that evening. His partner at dinner was Maud Prideaux; and, following that simple strategy which goes by the name of cheek, he took her into his confidence and besought her help. Maud was already pledged to Angela, but that did not hinder her from deserting to Bernard’s side. She was a born match-maker. As soon as the men came up after dinner she proposed a moonlight excursion to see the lake. Mrs. Merton sighed forth a rapturous assent, sent her husband for cloaks, and apostrophised the stars in an impromptu verse. A French window led out to a balcony, from which steps ran down to the garden. Mrs. Merton went first, to show the way; Angela, whose eyes were quite blind in the dusk, was a few steps behind. Maud Prideaux shot Bernard a mischievous glance of invitation, stooped down, and carefully tied up a bow which had not come undone. In an instant Angela found her chaperon’s place usurped by a tall figure, which bent down and said, in a moving whisper: