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Mr. Wadlow put out a deprecating hand.

“Youth is always at extremes. Maurice will learn wisdom.”

“I hope so.”

There was real anxiety in Ernest Wadlow’s voice as he said,

“But if he goes to Russia -Rachel, we can’t feel easy about that.”

“Perhaps he won’t go.”

“He will if this other scheme falls through. He is quite off reading for the Bar. He says all our legal machinery in this country is effete and ought to be liquidated. Mabel is more than uneasy. But if he had five thousand pounds to put into the Colony-”

A warm glow of anger brought the color to Miss Treherne’s cheeks.

“Five thousand pounds? My dear Ernest!”

Mabel Wadlow had come up behind the sofa. She said with surprising energy,

“Oh, Rachel! It wouldn’t be anything to you, and it would keep my boy at home.”

Rachel Treherne got up.

“I can’t discuss it. I couldn’t possibly put money into that sort of thing.”

Mabel’s voice began to flutter.

“Oh, Rachel-how unkind-my boy-your own nephew! And after all-it would only mean-advancing some of what will come to him-some day.”

The glow rose to a white heat. Rachel Treherne said,

“You mean when I am dead. But who told you that Maurice would come in for five thousand pounds, or five thousand pence, if I were to die tomorrow?” She spoke quite low.

Someone had switched on the wireless at the other end of the room. There was talk and laughter. She looked at Mabel and Ernest, and she thought, “He was down for ten thousand in that draft… And they know it.”

She saw their faces change-Ernest just got to his feet, Mabel peaked and tearful, leaning a little forward with her hands on the padded back of the sofa. Her heart turned sick within her. She said quite low,

“Please don’t let us talk of it any more,” and turning, walked over to the group by the fire.

Chapter Eight

They made room for her. Richard pulled up a chair. Caroline caught her hand as she passed and held it against her cheek.

“Oh, darling-you’re still cold!”

“It’s only my hands,” said Rachel Treherne. Her face burned. She leaned back and screened it from the fire.

“What were the parents talking to you about?” said Cherry in an inquisitive voice.

They were still talking to each other at the far end of the room. Anger had loosened Rachel’s tongue. With a trace of surprise she heard herself say,

“Something that I don’t want to go on talking about.”

Cherry’s eyes sparkled maliciously.

“Oh, then it was Maurice. And I bet they wanted you to give him money-as usual. But if there’s any going, I’m a much more deserving object.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Cherry.”

Maurice was glaring at his sister. Richard Treherne struck in.

“I saw the most extraordinary thing when I was on my way over this afternoon. I came the cliff way, and as I passed Tollage’s place, he’d got two men digging out a length of that old mixed hedge of his. A great pity, for it makes a good wind-break, but his wife wants to see the sea from her drawing-room windows. Well, the men called out to me as I passed and showed me half a dozen adders they’d dug out, laid up for the winter under the hedge. There was quite a crowd of village boys hanging round on the watch to see if any more would turn up.”

Maurice laughed.

“Pity Cherry wasn’t there,” he said. “An adder would make just the right kind of pet for her.”

Cherry rolled her eyes at Richard. She had changed into a pale green dress with no back, no sleeves. She said in an affected voice,

“Oh, I should love a snake!”

Richard’s eyes met hers with rather an odd look.

“Well, you had your chance. You must have come that way.”

“Adders are rather dull,” said Cherry. “What I should adore is one of those long, slinky, thin ones, bright emerald green, with a forked tongue. And it must be long enough to go three times round my arm and then do a sort of coil round the neck.”

“I hate snakes,” said Caroline in her soft voice.

She was wearing green too-a bright stuff patterned with silver. It had long sleeves and a high draped neck. Richard thought, “She looks like leaves coming out in the spring. Oh, Caroline darling!” But on the surface he produced a slightly cynical smile and observed,

“Let us by all means get up a family subscription and present Cherry with a garter snake for her next birthday.”

Cherry laughed her fleeting laugh.

“Oh, Dicky-how wizard! But why a garter? Do I know them?”

“I believe they are green-and-very poisonous.”

“And that’s what you get for calling him Dicky,” said Maurice.

The Wadlows came back into the circle at what Rachel felt to be an opportune moment. What was the matter with Cherry?… Jealous of Caroline?… Yes, undoubtedly…

Attracted by Richard?… Perhaps… Oh poor Cherry-what a waste of time!

She came back to hear Richard say,

“You’ve met Gale Brandon, haven’t you, Rachel?”

“Yes-quite a number of times. In fact I always seem to be meeting him. But I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Ah! He’s a prospective client. Merrivale introduced us, and he wants me to build him a very odd kind of a house, as far as I can make out. We had rather a disconnected sort of conversation, because Merrivale was telling a long story about how he photographed a lion on the Zambesi. At least, it started by being a story about a lion, but a lot of other beasts seemed to crop up as it went along. Merrivale was holding forth in front of the fire like he always does, and this man Gale Brandon had me by the arm walking me up and down and telling me all about how to build a house, so that the whole thing got rather mixed up, and my idea that the house is going to be on the odd side may be due to the way Merrivale’s lions and alligators and baboons and things kept bounding in and out of the conversation. By the way, a further complication was that the man Brandon kept breaking off to talk about Whincliff Edge. It appeared to be a good deal on his mind, but whether it was the house that he admired or you, Rachel, I couldn’t quite make out.”

Rachel smiled.

“He’s an American, you know. I think he admires everything. He hasn’t been over here very long, and he’s full of enthusiasm. I believe he even admires our climate, but I expect today has shaken him there.”

“I’ll tell you something he doesn’t admire,” said Richard, “and that is our Louisa. He asked me in his ingenuous manner why you had had a vinegar plant installed.”

Cherry giggled. Mabel Wadlow pursed her lips and murmured “Impertinent!” Ernest gazed judicially through his tilted lenses and pronounced,

“Really most offensive. He shouldn’t have said that.”

With the cold light of controversy in his eyes Maurice intervened.

“Nobody could possibly like Louisa-she’s a thoroughly disagreeable woman. But that is not her fault-it’s’the fault of your damned capitalism. You take one person, and you give them money, power, position, authority. You take another-”

Caroline’s eyes danced suddenly. She leaned to Richard and said at his very ear, “He’s going to call Louisa a wage-slave-I feel it in my bones,” and even as she said it, Maurice did.

“You make her a wage-slave, relying for her very bread upon a condition of servile dependency-”

Cherry’s laugh rang out.

“Well, I shouldn’t have called Louisa servile,” she said, and for once everyone agreed with her.

“Louisa is dreadfully rude,” said Caroline. “Even to Rachel. Even to Noisy-isn’t she, adored angel?”

Neusel had the middle of the hearthrug. The melting note in Caroline’s voice induced him to lift one eyelid slightly and give a very faint twitch to the end of the tail. He then relapsed into an ancestral dream in which he bearded a vast archaic badger in its lair and slew it.