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Then came Roger Tressady from the shadows and stooping, turned up the dead face to the moon, and tapped it gently with his shining hook.
From the other end of the room I know exactly what you think of the person you are talking to." "Do you?" said Marcella, penitently. "I wish you didn't." "Well you may wish it, for it doesn't help the political lady to get what she wants. However, I don't think that Lady Tressady has found out yet that you don't like her. She isn't thin-skinned.
Though he had never, so far, discussed his mother and her affairs with Letty in any detail, he understood perfectly well that her feeling about this particular house in some way concerned his mother, and that Letty and Lady Tressady were rapidly coming to dislike each other. Well, why should Letty pretend? He liked her the better for not pretending.
Yet with Tressady he felt no difficulty in talking over these private affairs; and he did, in fact, report the whole story that same story with which Marcella had startled Betty Leven on the night in question: how Ancoats on this Sunday evening had decoyed this handsome, impressionable girl, to whom throughout the winter he had been paying decided and even ostentatious court, into a tete-a-tete had poured out to her frantic confessions of his attachment to the theatrical lady a woman he could never marry, whom his mother could never meet, but with whom, nevertheless, come what might, he was determined to live and die.
There was in it a mocking self-possession which showed that he too had been playing a part mingled, perhaps, with a certain perplexity. George Tressady came down very late for dinner, and found his hostess on the verge of annoyance. Mrs.
There was no man for whom he had felt so much personal liking as for Tressady since the fight began. Somewhere before midnight the division on the second reading was taken, amid all those accompaniments of crowd, expectation, and commotion, that are usually evoked by the critical points of a contested measure.
The situation was threatening indeed, and Maxwell might well look harassed. Yet Tressady had detected no bitterness in Lady Maxwell's mood. Her temper rather seemed to him very strenuous, very eager, and a little sad. Altogether, he had been touched, he knew not exactly why, by his conversation with her. "We are going to win," he said to himself, "and she knows it."
The position gave him a new freedom of speech. Meanwhile he and Marcella Maxwell rarely met. Week after week passed, and still Tressady avoided those gatherings at the Mile End house, of which he heard full accounts from Edward Watton. He once formally asked Letty if she would go with him to one of Lady Maxwell's East End "evenings," and she, with equal formality, refused.
The French maid reminded her that her daughter-in-law had said, on showing her the room, she had only to express a wish to change, and the arrangements should be altered at once. "I daresay," cried Lady Tressady. "But I shall ask no favours of her and that, of course, she knew." "But, miladi, I need only speak to the housemaid." "Thank you!
Meanwhile this state of things did not make Lady Tressady any more welcome in Brook Street, and there were symptoms of grievances and quarrels of another sort. Lady Tressady heard that the young couple had already given one or two tiny dinner-parties, and to none of them had she been invited.
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