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Woolstan know that the son of a common friend of theirs had just, on his advice, been sent to the same school as Leonard; the boys would be friends, and make each other feel at home. This news Mrs.
Woolstan had used discretion concerning him, Dyce could not become at ease under that restless look: he felt himself gauged and registered, though with what result was by no means discernible in Mrs. Toplady's countenance. Those eyes of hers must have gauged a vast variety of men; her forehead told of experience and meditation thereon.
For the present, I have read and thought enough; now I have to make myself felt as a force." Mrs. Woolstan gazed at him, in a rapture of faith. His countenance wore its transforming light; he had passed into a dream of conquest. By constitution very temperate in the matter of physical indulgence, Lashmar found exciting stimulus even in a cup of tea.
Woolstan had made known the fact of his tutorship, which he did not care to publish, preferring to represent himself as having always held an independent position. With momentary awkwardness he explained that Mrs. Toplady's name had but once casually passed Mrs. Woolstan's Tips in his hearing, and that till now he had forgotten the circumstance.
He might as well go home and write a letter to his committee at Hollingford. Stay, could he not remember the school to which Leonard Woolstan had been sent? Yes it was noted in his pocket-book; for he had promised to write to the boy. He sought the nearest post-office, and dispatched a telegram to Leonard; "Please let me know immediately your mother's present address."
Good, foolish, fidgetty Iris Woolstan! Never again could he be impatient with her. Of course he must pay back her money as soon as possible. Brave little creature, light-heartedly sending him her cheque for three hundred pounds; why, there was something heroic in it. Yes, he acknowledged himself lucky in his woman friends; few men could be so fortunate.
"The Woolstan boy has a cold," Dyce replied, "and I found myself free for a few days. I'm sorry to put you out." "Not at all. I say that it might have done." Dyce's bearing to his mother was decently respectful, but in no way affectionate. The knowledge that she counted for little or nothing with him was an annoyance, rather than a distress, to Mrs. Lashmar.
Of all the women he could remember, she impressed him as the least manageable according to his method. Compared with her, Lady Ogram seemed mere ingenuousness and tractability. "And, pray, who is Mrs. Woolstan?" the hostess was asking, with a rather dry insistence. "A charming little woman," replied Mrs. Toplady, sincerity in look and voice.
Woolstan panted and fluttered and regarded Lashmar with eyes of agitated appeal. "If you think I ought to have held out please say just what you think let us be quite frank and comradelike with each other I can write to Mr. Wrybolt." "Tell me plainly," said Dyce, leaning towards her. "What was your reason for giving way at once? You really think, don't you, that it will be better for the boy?"
Woolstan gazed at him in dismay. "Oh! Oh! How very serious! What a dreadful thing!" "Pooh! Not at all. That's a very feminine way of talking." "I'm afraid it is. I didn't mean to use such expressions. But really what are you going to do?" "That'll have to be thought about." Iris, with fluttering bosom, leaned forward. "You'll talk it over with me?
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