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In making a short cut to the house I had to pass the hotel stables, into which a squatter in the orthodox breeches, boots and spurs, was riding. He called out: "I say, Corfield, what are you wearing a coat for?" I replied, "There's a function on; I'm going to present these sovereigns to a parson." He asked, "Any champagne?" I replied, "Whips of it."
"What have you got to do?" again asked Mrs. Corfield. "I shall not tell you," answered Leam, holding her head very high. How, indeed, should she tell this little sharp-faced woman that she was thinking how she could prevent madame from coming here as her home?
And when they did next meet it was in the churchyard, in the presence of the assembled congregation, with Alick Corfield as the centre of congratulation on his first resumption of duty, and Leam and Edgar separated by the crowd and stiffened by conventionality into coldness. Maya delusion!
Yet there were good men among them there was Kafil Bey for example. Kafil Bey whose last noble fight he had witnessed. If the fair-faced Sheikh had any of the weak English blood in his veins it must be of such a man as Kafil Bey. Corfield? Was he still swimming? Had he been picked up? Was he shark's food? This was an Emir indeed. An idea!... He called aloud: "Are you there, Master?
Corfield looked at her. "Have you never loved any one else as you loved your poor mother?" she asked. Leam lifted her eyes. "Never," she answered simply. "I have liked a few people since, but love as I loved mamma? No!" "Leam, I am going to ask you a straightforward question, and you must give me a straightforward answer: Which do you like best, my boy or Edgar Harrowby?" Mrs.
In three days' time from this the post brought a letter to Alick Corfield from the bishop offering him the perpetual curacy of Monk Grange, income seventy pounds a year and a house. Before speaking even to his mother, Alick rushed off with this letter to Mr. Gryce.
George laughed the short, grating laugh his mother so often evoked. "Beg pardon, mother; I can only answer for myself. To the best of my belief I never saw her, either at Ferth or anywhere else." "Why, Aspasia Corfield and I," said Lady Tressady with languid reflectiveness "Aspasia Corfield and I copied each other's dresses, and bought our hats at the same place, when we were eighteen.
Corfield, essaying careful little spurts, schoolboy fashion, along the edges; and the portly rector, proud to show his past superiority in sharp criticism on the style of the present day as a voucher for his own greater grace and skill in the days when he too was an Adonis for the one part and an Admirable Crichton for the other, and carried no superfluous flesh about his ribs.
Then, glancing upward to the sky, she said with an air of self-surrender, which Alick understood if his mother did not, "Yes, I will go with you: mamma says I may." "It is my belief, Alick," said Mrs. Corfield, when she had left them to prepare for her visit, "that poor child is going crazy, if she is not so already. She always was queer, but she is certainly not in her right mind now.
But Mrs, Corfield was not easily disconcerted, and it was "only Leam" at the worst. "I want you," she answered briskly, "Tell the maid to pack up your box, take off that lace thing on your head, and come home with me for a day or two. You need not stay longer than you like, but it will be better for you than moping here, thinking of all sorts of things you had better not think of."
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