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As I was so standing a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It was Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his neckcloth really admirably folded. I never denied the man could dress. 'Ah! said he, 'I thought it was you, Champdivers. So he's gone? I nodded. 'Come, come, said he, 'you must cheer up. Of course it's very distressing, very painful and all that.
For all that, I was now no less anxious to do the speaking myself than I had been before to hear Flora. At least, I could keep clear of the hateful image of Major Chevenix. Accordingly I burst at once on the narrative of my adventures. It was the same as you have read, but briefer, and told with a very different purpose.
Chevenix said, "I shall go out on that. I declare my innings. Good-bye, you two. I'll go and pacify the Devereux." He hoped against hope that he might have warmed her. Ingram, when they were alone, threw himself back in his chair, crossed one leg, and clasped the thin ankle of it. He had finely-made, narrow feet, and was proud of his ankles. Sanchia was now again kneeling before the fire.
We had a row, I remember, because he began to tell me what he thought about her. The man was a bore, you know." Chevenix screwed up one leg. "All men are, if they're sweet on your sweetheart, I suppose. He was worth fifty of you, all the same but go on." Ingram laughed. "I set my wits against his," he said, "and found out that he'd come straight from seeing her in London.
The whole policy of the Gilchrists was in the hands of Chevenix; and I thought this was a precaution so elementary that he was certain to have taken it. If he had not, of course I was all right: Robbie would manage to communicate with Flora; and by four o'clock I might be on the south road and, I was going to say, a free man.
"Puck, I think," said Senhouse. "Robin Goodfellow." He had recovered himself in that breathing-space. "How splendid of you both. Come and see my ship. I'm in moorings now, you know. I've cut piracy." "And preach to the hares," said Chevenix. "We saw you at it. What does his lordship say?" "His lordship, who, in spite of that, is an excellent man, likes it.
"Quite right to have a fire," he said. "It's falling in cold. There'll be a frost. What was Chevenix saying about me?" She had been prepared. "Nothing but good. He's your friend, as you said." "I said 'our friend, my dear." She looked at him. "Yes, certainly. He's my friend, too." "I hope he'll prove so. Upon my soul, I do." He remained silent for a time.
But here we had a highly irregular young woman behaving with extreme regularity. Was the world turning upside down? Was black, then, really white? She shivered, she blinked her eyes; but she descended the bank and stood beside the pair, yet rigidly apart. Chevenix, having got her there, knew not what to do with her.
John Chevenix, a young and lively woman with ash-coloured hair, audacious nose, and a clear complexion, was devoted to her husband's family, and especially tender to our young friend and Sanchia's, with whom she had a strong alliance. Her husband had a sense of humour, which he indulged for the most part in silence. He spoke rarely, swallowed his laughter, and yet was good company.
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