“Of course they are. So far as brains go I think it’s true what he said the other day; they’re the cleverest people in England. But—you ought to take him in hand,” he added. “There’s a great deal more in him than’s ever been got at. He wants some one to laugh at him. . . . The idea of Hirst telling you that you’ve had no experiences! Poor old Hirst!”
They had been pacing up and down the terrace while they talked, and now one by one the dark windows were uncurtained by an invisible hand, and panes of light fell regularly at equal intervals upon the grass. They stopped to look in at the drawing-room, and perceived Mr. Pepper writing alone at a table.
“There’s Pepper writing to his aunt,” said Hewet. “She must be a very remarkable old lady, eighty-five he tells me, and he takes her for walking tours in the New Forest. . . . Pepper!” he cried, rapping on the window. “Go and do your duty. Miss Allan expects you.”
When they came to the windows of the ballroom, the swing of the dancers and the lilt of the music was irresistible.
“Shall we?” said Hewet, and they clasped hands and swept off magnificently into the great swirling pool. Although this was only the second time they had met, the first time they had seen a man and woman kissing each other, and the second time Mr. Hewet had found that a young woman angry is very like a child. So that when they joined hands in the dance they felt more at their ease than is usual.
It was midnight and the dance was now at its height. Servants were peeping in at the windows; the garden was sprinkled with the white shapes of couples sitting out. Mrs. Thornbury and Mrs. Elliot sat side by side under a palm tree, holding fans, handkerchiefs, and brooches deposited in their laps by flushed maidens. Occasionally they exchanged comments.
“Miss Warrington does look happy,” said Mrs. Elliot; they both smiled; they both sighed.
“He has a great deal of character,” said Mrs. Thornbury, alluding to Arthur.
“And character is what one wants,” said Mrs. Elliot. “Now that young man is clever enough,” she added, nodding at Hirst, who came past with Miss Allan on his arm.
“He does not look strong,” said Mrs. Thornbury. “His complexion is not good.—Shall I tear it off?” she asked, for Rachel had stopped, conscious of a long strip trailing behind her.