'Did you read the Vindication?'
'I did glance through it,' said Victoria, feeling, she did not know why, acutely uncomfortable.
'Ah? interesting, isn't it? Pity it's so badly written. What do you think of it?'
'Well, I hardly know,' said Victoria reflectively; 'I didn't have time to read much; what I read seemed true.'
'You think that a recommendation, eh?' said Farwell, his lips parting slightly. 'I'd have thought you saw enough truth about life here to like lies.'
'No,' said Victoria, 'I don't care for lies. The nastier a thing is, the better everybody should know it; then one day people will be ashamed.'
'Oh, an optimist!' sniggered Farwell. 'Bless you, my child. Give me fillets of plaice, small white and cut.'
For several days after this Farwell took no notice of Victoria. He gave his order and opened his book as before. Victoria made no advances. She had talked him over with Betty, who had advised her to await events.
'You never know,' she had remarked, as a clinching argument.
A day or two later Victoria was startled by Farwell's arrival at half-past six. This had never happened before. The smoking-room was almost empty, as it was too late for teas and a little too early for suppers. Farwell sat down at his usual table and ordered a small tea. As Victoria returned with the cup he took out a book from under two others and held it out.