“True,” said Colonel Estcourt, “and therein lies the secret of all the misery and mistakes that have made the world what it is. The few enthusiasts and propagandists have always been confronted by that mountain of inertness, prejudice, and indolence, which the aggregate portion of all nations oppose to anything newer, or wiser, or better than the sloth and ignorance of the past.”
“Well,” laughed Mrs Jefferson, “let’s see what this new era will bring about. There’s a grand opening for it, and it has this advantage—people are much more dissatisfied with old creeds, and much more eager for new, than they have ever been. The reins are slack, if only there’s a firm and judicious hand to seize them.”
“Suppose,” drawled Mr Ray Jefferson, who had the rare virtue of being an admirable listener to any controversy or discussion. “Suppose, my dear, we have a game of poker.”
“Agreed,” laughed his wife. “This meeting’s adjourned, Colonel Estcourt. Will you join us.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m going out on the terrace to smoke.”
“And meditate on the Unknown?” queried the little American. “Perhaps you’ll see her at her window. I wish you luck.”
He did not answer, but his brow clouded and his face grew anxious and absorbed. In his heart those light words echoed with a thrill of mingled pain and dread. “If it should be,” he said to himself. “My God—if it should be she?”