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Updated: June 10, 2025
Why, of course she is nice," said Edward Watton, laughing. "All young ladies are." "Oh goodness!" said Betty, shaking her halo of gold hair. "Commend me to cousins for letting one down easy." "Too bad, Lady Leven!" said Watton, getting up to escape. "Why not ask Bayle? He knows all things. Let me hand you over to him. He will sing you all my cousin's charms."
At last, with a quick look towards the approaches of the garden, she said in a low voice: "I think you must know that his friends are not happy about him?" It so happened that Watton had found opportunity to show Tressady that morning a paragraph from one of the numerous papers that batten on the British peer, his dress, his morals, and his sport.
How is George Tressady going to put up with her?" The Wattons themselves had been on friendly terms with Tressady's father for many years. Since Sir William's death and George's absence, however, Mrs. Watton had not troubled herself much about Lady Tressady, in which she believed she was only following suit with the rest of West Mercia.
But the thought of being kept through August drives him desperate already. Ah! here they are plagues of the human race! " and she waved an accusing hand towards the incoming stream of gentlemen. "Now, I'll prophesy, and you watch. Lady Tressady will make two friends here Harding Watton oh! I forgot, he's her cousin! and Lord Cathedine. Mark my words.
An I don't want no shops, thank yer!" She rambled on a little longer, then, at a sign from the lady-secretary, made a grinning curtsy to the audience and departed. "What do they get out of that?" said Watton, in Tressady's ear "Poor galley-slave in praise of servitude!" "Her slavery keeps her alive, please." "Yes and drags down the standard of a whole class!" "You'll admit she seemed content?"
No doubt, ill-natured gossip of the Watton type would be humming and hissing round her name for the next few days. Well, let him write his letter as well as he could, and publish it as soon as possible! It took him about an hour and a half, and when he read it over it appeared to him the best piece of political statement he had yet achieved. Very likely it would make Fontenoy more savage still.
She has promised to give me one." The two cousins fell into a chatter about their county neighbours, mostly rich and aristocratic people, of whom Mrs. Hawkins knew little or nothing. Evelyn Watton, whose instincts were quick and generous, tried again and again to draw the vicar's wife into the conversation. Letty was determined to exclude her.
Incredible! when one remembered her in private life, in conversation. Yet these stumbling sentences, this evident distress! Tressady found himself fidgeting in sympathetic misery. He and Watton looked at each other. A little more, and she would have lost her audience. She had lost it.
Watton hardly put his comment into words; but Tressady, who knew him well, understood, and nodded over his cigarette.
The wife's adoration showed through her very failure through this strange conversion of all that was manly, solid, and effective in Maxwell, into a confused mass of facts and figures, pedantic, colourless, and cold! Edward Watton began to look desperately unhappy. "Too long," he said, whispering in Tressady's ear, "and too technical. They can't follow."
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