Stanley asked suddenly. "Will they stand a political powwow? One must think of them a bit." Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far-away mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake she added to suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land. Lady Britto was most intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every cottage on her estate.
Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed a long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white room, not very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they came in and flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady Malloring rose from her writing-table and came forward, holding out her hand. The two young Freelands took it gravely.
"Then you've mistaken your man." "I don't think so, Sir Gerald." Without another look Malloring passed the three by, and walked back to the house. In the hall was the agent, whose face clearly showed that he had foreseen this defeat. Malloring did not wait for him to speak. "Make arrangements. The strike-breakers will be down by noon to-morrow.
Tod smiled, as it were, without knowing; Malloring seemed to know what he was smiling at almost too well. It was comforting, however, that Freeland was as shy and silent as himself, for this produced a feeling that there could not be any real difference between their points of view.
"Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their cottage and Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children and him?" Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, ended at the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: "I'm afraid you don't understand." "Yes," said Sheila, still very pale, "we understand quite well.
Gaunt answered: "If so be as you was waitin' for the meetin', I fancy as 'ow you've got it, Sir Gerald!" A wave of anger surged up in Malloring, dyeing his face brick-red. So!
And between his teeth he muttered: "'Men of England, wherefore plough?..." In the room where the encounter had taken place Mildred Malloring was taking her time to recover.
For all her gentleness and sensibility, there was much practical directness about Mildred Malloring; for her, a page turned was a page turned, an idea absorbed was never disgorged; she was of religious temperament, ever trimming her course down the exact channel marked out with buoys by the Port Authorities, and really incapable of imagining spiritual wants in others that could not be satisfied by what satisfied herself.
"Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and you've no right to stop it." Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at Sheila. "I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it. Only, he cannot do it and live in one of our cottages. I don't think we need discuss this further." "I beg your pardon " The words had come from Derek.
Lady Malloring, who had originally been the Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount Silport, was tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair going rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a woman of some character.