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"I am reminded of that historic occasion," Cardington answered, "when you preached a sermon against the putting on of apparel and the plaiting of the hair, and extolled the inward adornment of a meek and quiet spirit, quoting St. Peter and Tertullian with singular effect"
To his companion there was now no inspiration in the moonlight, no sweetness in the unusual mildness of the air. His restless eyes searched in vain the long line of carriages, but Felicity was nowhere to be seen. He caught sight of the bishop driving off alone, and Cardington noticed the direction of his glance.
My dear, his wife had already left him, three days before! She was seen in Paris with Bob Sutherland. I hear the divorce suit is filed. What a terrible woman!" "A great escape, I am sure, for Sir Julien," Lady Cardington declared. The Duchess drew a little breath. "Poor Julien was always so chivalrous," she murmured.
It was evident that Miss Wycliffe did not relish the absurd picture of her protégé thus presented to her mind, and a reply in kind seemed to hover in the scornful curves of her lips; but she was a woman of finer mettle than to show either her anger or her hurt. "Mr. Cardington," she said with subtle mockery, "your part in the performance is plain"
'Who ever heard of a real mathematician with any health?" "Ah, yes," Cardington returned, with a comprehending look in his eyes, "but I 'm afraid you had too good a time down there in New York, and that now you 're working too hard by way of penance. But in regard to your suggestion, I am inclined to think favourably of it. Not that the President per se is an object of great interest to me.
They made their way behind the scenes and came down into the pit, where a few people, similarly favoured, were slowly selecting their seats. "What kind of a pull have you got with these fellows?" Leigh asked, secretly amused at the surprise his companion had reserved for him. "A prophet is not always without honour, even in his own country," Cardington returned evasively.
The elderly man, whose name was Sir Donald Ulford, made a movement as if to follow her, then cleared his throat and stood still looking after her. Lord Holme stuck out his under jaw. But Lady Cardington, the white-haired woman spoke to him softly, and he leaned over to her and replied. The sleek man, whose name was Mr. Bry, began to talk about Tschaikowsky to Mrs.
Cardington was always welcome, but the astronomer was still an outsider, and the present excitement was one of peculiarly local interest.
"I'll drink your health in a little whiskey," he replied with alacrity. "Quite right," Cardington commented, producing a bottle of Scotch. "I hope you 'll find that this has the true Calvinistic flavour. And here's to you likewise. May you yet discover the length, the depth, and the uses of all the canals of Mars."
"I'll leave it with Mr. Leigh." "You can search me for an opinion," he replied; and in the breezy colloquialism of the expression, no less than in a certain vividness of manner, his isolation from the others became apparent. "My French reading is mostly confined to astronomical monographs." "Miss Felicity," Cardington interposed, with an elaborate and old-fashioned gallantry that became him, "Mr.
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