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He wasn't often so much amused as that." A new look came into Mrs. Radbolt's green eyes. Up to now, distrust of Beaumaroy had predominated. His frank bearing, his obvious candor and simplicity, had weakened her suspicions. But his words suggested something else; he might be a fool, not a knave; Mr. Saffron had been amused, had laughed beyond his wont.
His apparent dislike to her husband's plan of staying at the Cottage roused Mrs. Radbolt's suspicions again; was he a rogue after all, but a very plausible, a very deep one? Only Mr. Radbolt's unctuousness surely it would have smoothed the stormiest waves saved the social situation.
It hinted some slight offense as though he felt himself charged with carelessness, and considered Mrs. Radbolt's obsession mere fussiness. "No doubt, if you stay, Mrs. Wiles will agree to stay too, and do her best to make you comfortable." "I shall feel easier that way, Radbolt," Mrs. Radbolt admitted, with another rumble of apologetic mirth. Beaumaroy motioned his guests back to the parlor.
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