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Updated: July 10, 2025
So unreasoningly abrupt was the sensation of absolute distrust and dislike that it cut his leave-taking to a curt word of refusal, and he turned on his heel. "What's the matter with you? Aren't you coming with us?" asked Malcourt, reddening. "No," said Hamil. "Good-bye, Miss Wilming. Thank you for asking me."
Cardross and Jessie Carrick bent over their embroidery; Shiela continued her letter writing with Gray's stylographic pen; Hamil, booted and spurred, both pockets stuffed with plans, paced the terrace waiting for his horse to be brought around; Malcourt had carried himself and his newspaper to the farther end of the terrace, and now stood leaning over the balustrade, an unlighted cigarette between his lips.
"Can I help what I look like!" bellowed Portlaw wrathfully. "What an idiot question!" said Malcourt with weary patience. "All you've got to do is to cuddle yourself less, and go out into the fresh air on your ridiculous legs " "Ridiculous!" gasped the other. "Well, I'm damned if I stand that !" "You won't be able to stand at all if you continue eating and sitting in arm-chairs.
Sometimes he thought of Portlaw's perverse determination to spoil the magnificent simplicity of the place with exotic effects lugged in by the ears; sometimes he wondered what Mr. Cardross could have to say to Malcourt what matter of such urgent importance could possibly concern those two men.
"Look at that horrid little brother-in-law of mine with his ferret eyes and fox face, fussing around those feathers as though he had just caught and eaten the bird that wore them!" Portlaw continued to scowl. "Suppose we take them on at cards," suggested Malcourt. "No, thanks." "Why not?" "They've taken a thousand out of me already."
"Great heavens," he faltered, "it looks like a Dutch ancestor of Cuyp's!" Cuyp, intensely annoyed, glanced at his watch. "Where the mischief did Miss Suydam and Malcourt go?" he asked Wayward. "I say, Miss Palliser, you don't want to wait here any longer, do you?" "They're somewhere in the labyrinth," said Wayward. "Their chair went that way, didn't it, boy?"
It's excellent for the liver, Louis." At this piece of inspired information Malcourt assumed an expression of deepest interest, but hoped Portlaw might not overdo it. "I'm going to diet, too," observed Portlaw, watching the effect of this astounding statement on his superintendent. "My theory is that we all eat too much."
Her ashy lips formed the word, but there was no utterance. Dinner was announced with a decorous modulation befitting the circumstances. Malcourt bore himself faultlessly during the trying function; Wayward was moody; his cynical glance through his gold-rimmed glasses resting now on Malcourt, now on Shiela.
"If you mean that as a threat" he began contemptuously; but Malcourt, who had suddenly assumed that curious listening attitude, raised his hand impatiently, as though silencing interruption.
For Malcourt, with all the contradictions in his character, all his cynicism, effrontery, ruthlessness, preferred to do things in a manner calculated to spare the prejudices of others; and if there was a way to accomplish a thing without hurting people, he usually took the trouble to do it in that way. If not, he did it anyway.
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