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"I will come this afternoon," Lois said quietly. Vandermere, who had frowned heavily at the sound of her Christian name upon Saton's lips, could scarcely conceal his anger at her promise. "I have never had the pleasure," he said, "of meeting the Comtesse. Perhaps I might be permitted to accompany Miss Champneyes?" "You are very kind," Saton answered.
When he returned, Madame was drumming thoughtfully upon the tablecloth with her long fingers. "Bertrand," she said. He looked toward her curiously. There was a new note, a new expression in the way she had pronounced his name. "The girl, the little fair fool of a girl with money Lois Champneyes you called her where is she?" "She is in London," he answered. "With the Rochesters?" "Yes!"
Lois Champneyes is very nearly of age, it is true, but she remains a child by disposition and temperament. As her guardian, I want you to understand that I forbid you to continue your friendship or even your acquaintance with her!" The quiet contempt of Rochester's words stung Saton into a moment of fury.
There is a man just leaving with whom I must speak." He passed away, and left the room with a little thrill of satisfaction. He had contrived to impress the one woman whom he was anxious to impress! Children like little Lois Champneyes and those others, were easy. This woman he knew at once was something different. Besides, she was a friend of Rochester's, and that meant something to him.
Rachael, who was waiting for him when he descended to dinner, even remarked upon the lightness of his step. "The country suits you, Bertrand," she said. "It suits you better than it does me. You walk like a boy, and there is color in your cheeks." "The sun," he muttered. "I always tan quickly." "Where have you been to?" she asked. "I have been walking with Miss Champneyes," he answered.
"I am so sorry," he said, "but the Comtesse de Vestinges my adopted mother," he explained, with a little bow "receives no one. She is old, and her health is not of the best. A visit from Miss Champneyes always does her good." Lois looked up at her companion. "Perhaps," she said, "you will have a cigarette in the lane." "I am sorry to seem inhospitable," Saton said smoothly.
There are points about your behaviour, ever since in a foolish moment I asked you to stay at Beauleys, which I do not understand. I do not understand Lord Guerdon's sudden recognition of you, and even suddener death. I do not understand why it has amused you to fill the head of my young ward, Lois Champneyes, with foolish thoughts.
Begin with the eldest." "Lady Penarvon." "I know. Go on," she said. "Mrs. Hinckley." "Go on." "Miss Lois Champneyes." "Young?" the woman asked. "Yes!" "Pretty?" "Yes!" "A victim?" Saton frowned. "There was also," he continued, "my hostess, Lady Mary Rochester." "A silly, fluffy little woman," Madame declared. "Did she flirt?" "Not with me, at any rate," Saton answered.
His first impulse was to stop, but with Lois by his side he saw at once that it was impossible. With the courage that waits upon the inevitable, he opened the gate and passed out into the lane. "Good afternoon, Miss Champneyes!" he said, holding out his hand. "It was very good of you to come in and visit the Comtesse. She is always so glad indeed to see you."
They were listening to Saton, who was standing, the centre of a little group, telling stories. "It was in Buenos Ayres," Rochester heard him conclude, amidst a ripple of laughter. "I can assure you that I saw the incident with my own eyes." Lois Champneyes an heiress, pretty, and Rochester's ward came floating across the room to them.
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