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I will go to see her. Yes, but she won't be in; that alone will clinch the matter. But first I will pay a visit to Lucia Lysle; she said she would be in London she told my dear wife so. But Lucia is so erratic, it is most improbable that she either will be at home." Mr. Cardew drove first of all to Lady Lysle's house in Hans Place.
"Are you interested in black-letter?" said Mr. Cardew. "I am interested in everything old," replied Maggie. "Well, then, I will show you the manuscript-room with pleasure; but if you want to go over the Manor you have a heavy morning's work before you, and Merry is an excellent guide. However, let me see. I will meet you in the library at a quarter to twelve. Until then, adieu."
If she comes home it will be with the understanding that she does not see him again." "Revolt?" said old Anthony, raising his eyebrows. "That is what it actually was. She found her liberty interfered with, and she staged her own small rebellion. It was very human, I think." "It was very Cardew," said old Anthony, and smiled faintly.
At half-past seven he was on his way to the hospital. He stopped at the market and bought three dozen oranges out of a ten-dollar bill he had won on the election, and almost bought a live rabbit because it looked so dreary in its slatted box. He restrained himself, because his housekeeper had a weakness for stewed rabbit, and turned into Cardew Way.
"It certainly is a home," said Merry, "and an old one, too. Parts of the Manor have been centuries in existence, but some parts, of course, are comparatively new." "Will you take me all over it, Miss Cardew?" asked Maggie. "Indeed, I shall be delighted; but you must come another day for that, for we want to make up some sets of tennis without any delay. We have all our afternoon planned out.
"Woman," corrected Willy Cameron. "The word 'lady' is now obsolete, since your sex has entered the economic world." He put on his coat. "I said 'lady' and that's what I mean," said Edith. "'May I speak to Mr. Cameron?" she mimicked. "Regular Newport accent." Suddenly Willy Cameron went rather pale. If it should be Lily Cardew but then of course it wouldn't be.
Already Lily was seeing him with the critical eyes of youth, his loud voice, his over-fastidious dress, his occasional grossnesses. To offset these she placed vast importance on his promise to leave his old associates when she married him. The time was very close now. She could not hold him off much longer, and she began to feel, too, that she must soon leave the house on Cardew Way.
How holy, how beautiful, it would have been if the man by my side had been Anthony Cardew instead of Richard Dawson! He still held me in his arms when he had set me down and pressed me to him. I trembled with repulsion and he felt that I trembled, without understanding. He let me go almost roughly. "Did I frighten you?" he asked, roughly tender. "You shivered, sweetheart.
They were wrong, and yet in some strange way they were right, too. She was Cardew enough to get their point of view. But she was Cardew enough, too, to defy them. She did it rather gently. "You must understand," she said, her hands folded in front of her, "that it is not so much that I care to see the people you are talking about. It is that I feel I have the right to choose my own friends."
Have you broken the news to grandfather that the last of the Cardews is coming home?" "He sent you all sorts of messages, and he'll see you at dinner." Lily laughed out at that. "You darling!" she said. "You know perfectly well that I am nothing in grandfather's young life, but the Cardew women all have what he likes to call savoir faire.
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