They carried it on a little while,
Meadows, now fairly on his mettle, administering a little deft though
veiled castigation here and there, in requital for various acts of
rudeness of which she had been guilty towards him and others during the
preceding days. She grew restive occasionally, but on the whole she bore
it well. Her arrogance was not of the small-minded sort; and the best
chance with her was to defy her.
At the gate leading on to the moor, Meadows resolutely came to a stop.
"Your letters are the merest excuse!" said Lady Dunstable. "I don't
believe you will write one of them! I notice you always put off
unpleasant duties."
"Give me credit at least for the intention."
Smiling, he held the gate open for her, and she passed through,
discomfited, to join Sir Luke on the other side. Mr. Frome, the
Under-Secretary, a young man of Jewish family and amazing talents, who
had been listening with amusement to the conversation behind him, turned
back to say to Meadows, at a safe distance--"Keep it up!--Keep it up!
You avenge us all!"
* * * * *
Presently, as she and her two companions wound slowly up the moor, Sir
Luke Malford, who had only arrived the night before, inquired gaily of
his hostess:
"So she wouldn't come?--the little wife?"
"I gave her every chance.
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