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Though among his acquaintances Summerhay always provoked badinage, in which he was scarcely ever defeated, yet in chambers and court, on circuit, at his club, in society or the hunting-field, he had an unfavourable effect on the grosser sort of stories. There are men by no means strikingly moral who exercise this blighting influence.
She said softly: "The wonder in the faun's face, Procris's closed eyes; the dog, and the swans, and the pity for what might have been!" Summerhay repeated: "Ah, for what might have been! Did you enjoy 'Pagliacci'?" Gyp shivered. "I think I felt it too much." "I thought you did. I watched you." "Destruction by love seems such a terrible thing! Now show me your favourites.
"The people at Mildenham, Major Winton and his daughter you know. Well, I'm in love with her I'm I'm her lover." Lady Summerhay uttered a gasp. "But but Bryan " "That fellow she married drinks. He's impossible. She had to leave him a year ago, with her baby other reasons, too. Look here, Mother: This is hateful, but you'd got to know. I can't talk of her. There's no chance of a divorce."
It was Sunday morning, the church-bells ringing, no wind, a lull in the sou'westerly gale one of those calms that fall in the night and last, as a rule, twelve or fifteen hours, and the garden all strewn with leaves of every hue, from green spotted with yellow to deep copper. Summerhay was afraid; he kept with her all the morning, making all sorts of little things to do in her company.
And the horse, slithering round the linhay walls, checked in his own length, unhurt, snorting, frightened, came out, turning his wild eyes on his master, who never stirred, then trotted back into the field, throwing up his head. When, at her words, Summerhay went out of the room, Gyp's heart sank.
At the door, he murmured: "I don't know whether my girl will get through, or what she will do after. When Fate hits, she hits too hard. And you! Good-bye." Lady Summerhay pressed his outstretched hand. "Good-bye," she said, in a strangled voice. "I wish you good-bye." Then, turning abruptly, she hastened away. Winton went back to his guardianship upstairs.
Gyp thought: 'I mustn't let him get off or I shall be late for dinner, and she said: "Oh, Pettance, who bought the young brown horse?" "Mr. Bryn Summer'ay, ma'am, over at Widrington, for an 'unter, and 'ack in town, miss." "Summerhay? Ah!"
With his lazy smile, Summerhay answered: "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio," and turned on his heel. When his friend had disappeared, he resumed his journey toward Bury Street.
At Temple Lane, she stopped the cab and walked down that narrow, ill-lighted, busy channel into the heart of the Great Law. "Up those stone steps, miss; along the railin', second doorway." Gyp came to the second doorway and in the doubtful light scrutinized the names. "Summerhay second floor." She began to climb the stairs. Her heart beat fast. What would he say? How greet her?
He shook himself, and sat up. "Oh, damn you!" "Sorry, old chap!" "What time is it?" "Ten o'clock." Summerhay uttered an unintelligible sound, and, turning over on the other arm, pretended to snooze down again. But he slept no more. Instead, he saw her face, heard her voice, and felt again the touch of her warm, gloved hand.
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