“I believe that is Nora’s intention,” she responded quickly, with a slight sigh of relief at the change in our conversation.
“Have you many visitors there?”
“Oh, about fifteen—all rather jolly people. It’s such a charming place. Nora must ask you down there.”
“I should be delighted,” I said.
Now that I had money in my pocket, and was no longer compelled to toil for the bare necessities of life, I was eager to get away from the heat and dust of the London August. This suggestion of hers was to me doubly welcome too, for as a visitor at Atworth I should be always beside her. That she was in peril was evident, and my place was near her.
On the other hand, however, I distrusted her ladyship. She had, at the first moment of our meeting, shown herself to be artificial and an admirable actress. Indeed, had she not, for purposes known best to herself, endeavoured to start a flirtation with me? Her character everywhere was that of a smart woman—popular in society, and noted for the success of her various entertainments during the season; but women of her stamp never commended themselves to me. Doctors, truth to tell, see rather too much of the reverse of the medal—especially in social London.
“When did you return from Wiltshire?” I inquired, determined to clear up one point.
“The day before yesterday,” she responded.
“In the evening?”
“No, in the morning.”