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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Yes, decidedly, with the exception of Ludovic, that family do not possess ready tongues, yet they contrive to make their meaning pretty plain in the end. I have just driven over from Whitney, and am fresh from a fine example of eventual plain speaking from that excellent father of the family, Lord Fallowfeild. It was instructive.
By which time, Fallowfeild says, the mourning warehouses here at home will have made a record turnover, and there will be altogether too many new graveyards for comfort in South Africa." Poppy paused in her harangue, for Dominic Iglesias had set down his cup, its contents untasted. He was sad at heart. "Are you going?" she asked. "Yes," he answered. "It grows late. It's time I went, I think."
"He is as keen a sportsman as you are in as far, of course, as sport is possible for him." Here Lord Fallowfeild, finding himself somewhat hard pressed, sought relief in movement. He turned sideways, throwing one shapely leg across the other, grasping the supporting walking-stick in his right hand, while with the left he laid hold of the back of the white-and-gold chair.
"Lord Denier's death gave our host here a seat on the local bench just at the right moment," the doctor went on. "One man's loss is another man's opportunity. Rather rough, perhaps, on the outgoing man, but then things usually are pretty rough on the outgoing man in my experience." "I suppose they are," Lord Fallowfeild said, rather ruefully, his face becoming preternaturally solemn.
And then it came out that for years he had been living with one of the still-room maids." "Louisa!" cried Lady Alicia, turning scarlet. "Had he, though? The old scoundrel!" "Papa," cried Lady Alicia. "So he was, my dear. Very bad old man, Sokeington. Very amusing old man too, though." And, overcome by certain reminiscences, Lord Fallowfeild chuckled a little, shamefacedly.
As he finished speaking the doctor got on to his feet somewhat awkwardly. His subject had affected him more deeply than he quite cared either to own to himself or to have others see. "That plaguy sciatic nerve again!" he growled. Lord Fallowfeild had risen also. "Capable man, Knott, but rather rough at times, rather too didactic," he said to himself, as he turned to greet Miss St. Quentin.
Lord Fallowfeild knew her, but could not remember her name. "Oh! ah! Shotover," he said, over his shoulder, "I don't want to hurry you, my dear boy, but perhaps it would be as well if you'd just go round to the stables and take a look at the horses."
She made a most expressive grimace, as though she had a remarkably disagreeable taste in her mouth. "No salvation for that sort, I believe," she went on, "either here or hereafter. Now, are you better? You do believe it has always been perfectly square and above-board between Fallowfeild and me, don't you?" "Unquestionably, I believe it," Dominic answered. He spoke slowly.
He grew heated in discussion with Lord Fallowfeild. He petted little Lady Constance Quayle. He called Camp, coaxed and chaffed the dog merrily whereat Lady Calmady rose from her place by the bedside and stood at one of the dim, shuttered windows for a while.
Chastened in spirit, verbally acquiescent, yet unconvinced, a somewhat pitiable sense of inadequacy upon him, Lord Fallowfeild traveled back to Westchurch that night.
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