It was an arranged meeting: much taken for granted. Conversation to go on presently where our last meeting left it. Meanwhile, short recognitions of current event.
"When did you come?"
"The day before yesterday."
"The voice of gossip cannot say you followed me down here. Not that it would matter!"
"I fancy we are pretty transparent." Challis dismissed the matter as a slight interest only. "Are we peaceful at the Hall?"
"Oh—well! One short row—a very small one! It's rather unfortunate that some people who were expected have cried off. And another gang had just gone. So my dear parents ... to whom I am really devoted; and they are so good and upright and that sort of thing ... what was I saying about them?—oh yes!—my dear parents and I were alone. It was unlucky." Challis threw up his eyebrows very slightly, and made a barely audible note of interrogation through closed lips. She replied to it: "Yes—the usual sort of thing." And they walked on slowly arm in arm, not speaking.
Presently the lady resumed, seeming always the more talkative of the two: "Compulsory truce this evening, I suppose. Most likely Sibyl and Frank, who, I understand, is ridiculous about Sib. Besides, Mr. What's-his-name is coming ... what is his name?"...
"Tell me who he is, and I'll see if I know."
"Oh dear!—man that talks metaphysics...."