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Ferrall, gesticulating vigorously, resumed his preprandial dog story to Captain Voucher; Belwether buttonholed Alderdene and bored him with an interminably facetious tale until that nobleman, threatened with maxillary dislocation, fairly wrenched himself loose and came over to Siward, squinting furiously.
And though Siward continued not to offer his hand, Major Belwether meant to have it, bless your heart! And he fussed and fussed and beamed cordiality until he secured it in his plump white fingers and pressed it effusively. There was something about his soft, warm hands which had always reminded Siward of the temperature and texture of a newly hatched bird.
But Siward only shrugged his comment and glanced out through the leaded casements into the brilliant September sunshine. Outside he could see Major Belwether, pink skinned, snowy chop whiskers brushed rabbit fashion, very voluble with Sylvia Landis, who listened absently, head partly averted.
His misconception of the attractions of the church amused the new set of men among whom he had recently drifted, to the unfeigned disgust of gentlemen like Major Belwether; "club" men, in the commoner and more sinister interpretation of the word; unfit men, who had managed to slip into good clubs; men, once fit, who had deteriorated to the verge of ostracism; heavy, over-fed, idle, insolent men in questionable financial situation, hard card players, hard drinkers, hard riders, negative in their virtues, merciless in their vices, and whose cynical misconduct formed the sources of the stock of stories told where such men foregather.
I think my uncle Major Belwether chose you as his august mouthpiece for that little sermon on the dangers of heredity the danger of being ignorant concerning what women of my race had done before I came into the world they found so amusing." "I told you several things," returned Mrs. Ferrall composedly. "Your uncle thought it best for you to know." "Yes.
Lord Alderdene, Major Belwether, and Mortimer were at a table by themselves; stacks of ivory chips and five cards spread in the centre of the green explained the nature of their game; and Mortimer, raising his heavy inflamed eyes and seeing Siward unoccupied, said wheezily: "Cut out that 'widow, and give Siward his stack! Anything above two pairs for a jack triples the ante.
And after they had gone he would probably arouse himself to read the evening paper, or perhaps gossip with Major Belwether and other white-haired familiars, or perhaps doze until it was time to summon a cab and go home to dress.
"In other words," said Mrs. Ferrall slowly, "you don't think Mr. Siward is getting what is known as a square deal?" "No, I don't. Major Belwether has already hinted no, not even that but has somehow managed to dampen my pleasure in Mr. Siward." Mrs. Ferrall considered the girl beside her now very lovely and flushed in her suppressed excitement.
And that was all, unless he disturbed Sylvia, seated at cards with Quarrier and Major Belwether and Leila Mortimer and very intent on the dummy, very still, and a trifle pallid with the pallor of concentration. So that was all, then. Ascending the stairs, a servant handed him a letter bearing the crest of the Lenox Club. He pocketed it unopened and continued his way.
He laughed when he thought of Major Belwether, too, confounded under the loss of such a nephew-in-law, humiliated, crushed, all his misleading jocularity, all his sleek pink-and-white suavity, all his humbugging bonhomie knocked out of him, leaving only a rumpled, startled old gentleman, who bore an amusing resemblance to a very much mussed-up buck-rabbit.
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