She drew a deep breath.
“I wish I did. But you—you really do belong here. You seem to have absorbed all the clearness of it, and the strength and vigour. I was watching you this morning, and you were so utterly out of place in those surroundings.” Victoria paused, her colour deepening.
His blood kept pace with the mare's footsteps, but he did not reply.
“What did you think of Humphrey's speech?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“I thought it a surprisingly good one,—what I heard of it,” he answered. “That wasn't much. I didn't think he'd do as well.”
“Humphrey's clever in a great many ways,” Victoria agreed. “If he didn't have such an impenetrable conceit, he might go far, because he learns quickly, and has an industry that is simply appalling. But he hasn't quite the manner for politics, has he?”
“I think I should call his manner a drawback,” said Austen, “though not by any means an insurmountable one.”
Victoria laughed.
“The other qualities all need to be very great,” she said. “He was furious at me for coming out this afternoon. He had it all arranged to drive over to the Forge, and had an early lunch.”
“And I,” said Austen, “have all the more reason to be grateful to you.”