These were dabbed about everywhere--in panels above the chair rail, in
screens and silver frames, on the writing-table, and loose and
unframed on the mantel-shelf. They were nearly all portraits of
women--and some nice attractive bits among them, as Dale thought;
young and cheeky ones, too, that he guessed were actresses and not
nieces or cousins. He smiled tolerantly. These photographs brought to
his mind a nearly forgotten fancy of his own, together with echoes of
the local gossip. Round Rodchurch the talk ran that the Right
Honorable gentleman was still a rare one for the ladies. "And why
not?" thought Dale. A childless old widower may keep up that sort of
game as long as he likes, or as long as he can, without wounding any
one's feeling. It wasn't as if her ladyship had been still alive.
"Sir, I hope I have not disturbed you; but I couldn't be easy till I'd
cordially and heartily thanked you." Mr. Barradine had come in, and
Dale fired off his brief set speeches. But instinct almost immediately
told him that once more Mavis had been right and he wrong. Mr.
Barradine was not expecting or desiring a personal call.
"Not worth mentioning. Nothing at all." He said these things
courteously, but there was a coldness in his tone that quite froze the
visitor.
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