But Basset, as he faced his companion, was not thinking of the room, or of the pursuits with which it was connected in his mind, and which, more than affection and habit, bound him to John Audley. He moved restlessly in his chair, then stretched his legs to meet the glow of the wood fire. “All the same,” he said, “I think you would have done well to see her to-night, sir.”
“Pooh! pooh!” John Audley answered with lazy good humor. “Why? It doesn’t matter what I think of her or she thinks of me. It’s what Peter thinks of Mary and Mary thinks of Peter that matters. That’s what matters!” He chuckled as he marked the other’s annoyance. “She is a beauty, is she?”
“I didn’t say so.”
“But you think it. You don’t deceive me at this time of day. And stand-off, is she? That’s for the marines and innocent young fellows like you who think women angels. I’ll be bound that she’s her mother’s daughter, and knows her value and will see that she fetches it! Trading blood will out!”
To the eye that looked and glanced away John Audley, lolling in his chair, in a quilted dressing-gown with silk facings, was a plump and pleasant figure. His face was fresh-colored, and would have been comely if the cheeks had not been a little pendulous. His hair was fine and white and he wore it long, and his hands were shapely and well cared for. As he said his last word he poured a little brandy into a glass and filled it up with water. “Here’s to the wooing that’s not long adoing!” he said, his eyes twinkling. He seemed to take a pleasure in annoying the other.
He was so far successful that Basset swore softly. “It’s silly to talk like that,” he said, “when I have hardly known the girl twenty-four hours and have scarcely said ten times as many words to her.”
“But you’re going to say a good many more words to her!” Audley retorted, grinning. “Sweet, pretty words, my boy! But there, there,” he continued, veering between an elfish desire to tease and a desire equally strong to bring the other to his way of thinking. “I’m only joking. I know you’ll never let that devil have his way! You’ll never leave the course open for him! I know that. But there’s no hurry! There’s no hurry. Though, lord, how I sweated when I read his letter! I had never a wink of sleep the night after.”
“I don’t suppose that he’s given a thought to her in that way,” Basset answered. “Why should he?”
John Audley leant forward, and his face underwent a remarkable change. It became a pale, heavy mask, out of which his eyes gleamed, small and malevolent. “Don’t talk like a fool!” he said harshly. “Of course he means it. And if she’s fool enough all my plans, all my pains, all my rights—and once you come to your senses and help me I shall have my rights—all, all, all will go for nothing. For nothing!” He sank back in his chair. “There! now you’ve excited me. You’ve excited me, and you know that I can’t bear excitement!” His hand groped feebly for his glass, and he raised it to his lips. He gasped once or twice. The color came back to his face.
“I am sorry,” Basset said.