In truth, these three years had intellectually much
advanced him. It was at this time that he had begun to use the
brief, decisive turn of speech which afterwards became his habit; a
mode of utterance suggesting both mental resources and force of
character.
Later in the evening, he found himself beside Mrs. Hannaford in a
corner of the drawing-room. He had hoped to speak a little with Miss
Derwent, in semi-privacy, but of that there seemed no chance; enough
that he had her so long before his eyes. Nor did he venture to speak
of her to her aunt, though with difficulty subduing the desire. He
knew that Mrs. Hannaford understood what was in his mind, and he
felt pleased to have her for a silent confidante. She, not
altogether at ease in this company, was glad to talk to Otway of
everyday things; she mentioned her daughter, who was understood to
be living elsewhere for the convenience of artistic studies.
"I hope you will be able to meet Olga before you go. She shuts
herself up from us a great deal--something like you used to do at
Ewell, you remember."
"I do, only too well. Why mayn't I go and call on her?"
Mrs. Hannaford shook her head, vaguely, trying to smile.
"She must have her own way, like all artists. If she succeeds, she
will come amongst us again."
"I know that spirit," said Piers, "and perhaps it's the right one.
Give her my good wishes--they will do no harm.
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