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He was a baby in public affairs, of course, as yet; but as soon as he once got going, the intensity of his convictions, together with his position, and real gift not of the gab, like Harbinger's but of restrained, biting oratory, was sure to bring him to the front with a bound in the present state of parties. And what were those convictions?
At lunch, the only allusion to the situation had been Harbinger's inquiry: "When does Miltoun return?" He had wired, it seemed, to say that he was motoring down that night. "The sooner the better," Sir William murmured: "we've still a fortnight." But all had felt from the tone in which he spoke these words, how serious was the position in the eyes of that experienced campaigner.
"Don't talk nonsense, and don't stretch like that!" she said; "you're too large already...." At dinner that night they were all in possession of the news. Sir William had been informed by the local agent at Staverton, where Lord Harbinger's speech had suffered from some rude interruptions. The Hon.
In the afternoon she even volunteered to accompany her mother to old Lady Harbinger's in the neighbourhood of Prince's Gate. She knew that Harbinger would be there, and with the thought of meeting that other at 'five o'clock, had a cynical pleasure in thus encountering him. It was so complete a blind to them all!
The fascination of Courtier's chivalrous manner, of a sort of innate gallantry, suggesting the quest of everlasting danger was it not rather absurd? And was she fascinated? Was it not simply that she liked the feeling of fascinating him? Through the maze of these thoughts, darted the memory of Harbinger's face close to her own, his clenched hands, the swift revelation of his dangerous masculinity.
Except for an unconscious grinding of his teeth, he made no sound or movement, so that they went by without seeing him. Her voice, though not the words, came to him distinctly. He saw her hand slip up under Harbinger's arm and swiftly down again. A smile, of whose existence he was unaware, settled on his lips.
On Harbinger's face, too, there had come a look of stubborn violence slowly working up towards the surface. "I said: 'Good, isn't it? Mr. Courtier." "I heard you." "And you were pleased to answer?" "Nothing." "With the civility which might be expected of your habits."
He did not admit that the reason of this uneasiness was Courtier, for, after all, Courtier was, in a sense, nobody, and 'an extremist' into the bargain, and an extremist always affected the centre of Harbinger's anatomy, causing it to give off a peculiar smile and tone of voice.
The silence seemed to fall to earth, and break into a thousand pieces. Through the pandemonium of cheers and groaning, Courtier with all his strength forced himself towards the balcony. He could see Lord Valleys leaning forward with a broad smile; Lady Valleys passing her hand across her eyes; Barbara with her hand in Harbinger's, looking straight into his face. He stopped.
She was well used to these dead hours only last night, at this very time, Harbinger's arm had been round her in a last waltz! But here the dead hours had such different faces, wide-eyed, solemn, and there came to Barbara, staring out at them, a sense that the darkness saw her very soul, so that it felt little and timid within her.
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