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Cecil, with an action of settled despair, turned from the spectacle, and buried his face for one last moment of comfort in Vida Levering's shoulder; while Sara, with a baleful glance, muttered 'I knew it was that old interfiddler. 'Now, Master Cecil 'Yes, nurse. Miss Levering carried him back to his cot. 'Mrs. Tunbridge has sent up, miss, to know if you've come. They're waiting dinner.
Do you wonder that when we think of it you men who have power and don't use it! do you wonder that women come out of their homes young, and old, and middle-aged that we stand up here in the public places and give you scorn for scorn? As the unheroic figure trembling stepped off the bench, she found Vida Levering's hand held out to steady her. 'Take my seat, said the younger woman.
Levering's thoughts, and on the point of gaining utterance, but he had not the courage to speak. He had gained a dollar in the transaction beyond his due, and already it was lying heavily on his conscience.
By the time death overtook Sir Hervey two winters ago in Rome, Wark had become so essential a part of Vida's little entourage, that one of the excuses offered by that lady for not going to live with her half-sister in London had been 'Wark doesn't always get on with other servants. For several years Miss Levering's friends had been speaking of her as one fallen a victim to that passion for Italy that makes it an abiding place dearer than home to so many English-born.
The bare idea of women pretending to concern themselves with public affairs from the point of view of the Press, it was enough to make the soberest sides shake with Homeric laughter. So, then, one last time to see for one's self. And on this occasion no pettiness of disguise, Miss Levering's aspect seemed to say no recurrence of any undignified flight.
Slowly she retraced her steps down the grass path as if to have the words repeated. But if Miss Levering's idea had been to change the conversation, she was disappointed. There was nothing Paul Filey liked better than an audience, and he had already the impression that Miss Heriot was what he would have scorned to call anything but 'simpatica.
'Homeless women? echoed Mr. Freddy. 'Yes; in the most insanitary part of Soho. 'Oh a really. Mr. Freddy stroked his smart little moustache. 'It doesn't sound quite in Miss Levering's line, Farnborough hazarded. 'My dear boy, said his hostess, 'you know as little about what's in a woman's line as most men. 'Oh, I say! Mr. Freddy looked round with a laugh.
Impossible for any passer-by to carry out the programme of pausing to ask idly, 'What are those women screeching about? Seeming to search in vain for some excuse to linger, Miss Levering's wandering eye fell upon a young mother wheeling a perambulator. She had glanced with mild curiosity at the flaunting ensign, and then turned from it to lean forward and straighten her baby's cap.
'Well, rather! I collect rents in her district. 'Oh, do you? You never told me. 'Why should I tell you? Ernestine was dismissing the meeting. 'You are very tired, said Lord Borrodaile, looking at Vida Levering's face. 'Yes, she said. 'I'll go now. Come, Sophia! 'We shall be here on Thursday, Ernestine was saying, 'at the same hour, and we hope a great many of you will want to join us.
'Scattered up and down. Getting ready for the General Election. That's why we have to break in new people. Oh, she sent me some notes, that girl did. I must give them back to her. Ernestine stooped and opened the portfolio on Miss Levering's lap. She rummaged through the bulging pockets.