He was tired. A walk through the dewy lanes would refresh him. He was in a restless mood; he wanted to be alone, to stretch himself and to think—perhaps to indulge in some youthful dream. But he was used to combating these moods; he would rather bear anything than disappoint Kester. And then he drank off his tea without a murmur, and the next moment the two brothers were hard at work.
CHAPTER VIII
'I HOPE BETTER THINGS OF AUDREY'
'Your manners are always under examination, and by committees little suspected—a police in citizen's clothes—who are awarding or denying you very high prizes when you least think of it.'—Emerson.
Mrs. Harcourt had had a successful afternoon. All the nicest people had been at home, and a great many pleasant things had been said to her; her mother had been a charming companion. Nevertheless, there was a slight cloud on Mrs. Harcourt's face as she walked through the shrubbery that led to her house, and the fold of care was still on her brow as she entered her husband's study—a pleasant room on the ground-floor, overlooking the garden. Mr. Harcourt was reading, but he put down his magazine and greeted his wife with a smile. He was just rising from his seat, but she prevented him by laying her hand on his shoulder.
'Don't move, Percival; you look so comfortable. I will sit by you a minute. I hope I am not interrupting you.'
'Such an interruption is only pleasant, my dear,' was the polite answer. 'Well, have you and Audrey had a nice afternoon?'
'Mother came with me. Audrey had some ridiculous engagement with the Blakes. Percival, I am growing seriously uneasy at this new vagary on Audrey's part. Would you believe it?—she has been the whole afternoon at the Gray Cottage helping those children! and Michael has been there, too; we met them just now.'