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Longdon's historian to overlook that if he was, not unnaturally, mystified he was yet also visibly interested. "What boat is she in?" He had addressed his curiosity, with politeness, to Mr. Cashmore, but they were all arrested by the wonderful way in which Mrs. Brook managed to smile at once very dimly, very darkly, and yet make it take them all in. "I think YOU must tell him, Van."
"I see, I see. I might by the same law arrange somehow that Lady Fanny should find herself in love with Edward. That would 'prove' HER purity. And you could be quite at ease," she laughed "he wouldn't make any presents!" Mr. Cashmore regarded her with a candour that was almost a reproach to her mirth. "I like your daughter better than I like you." But it only amused her more.
"I think I can get there late," he then replied to Mr. Longdon. "I think I can get there early," Mr. Cashmore declared. "Mrs. Grendon must have a box; in fact I know which, and THEY don't," he jocosely continued to his hostess. Mrs. Brook meanwhile had given Mr. Longdon her hand. "Well, in any case the child SHALL soon come to you.
He gave a sound, controlled by discretion, which sufficed none the less to make Mr. Longdon beholding him for the first time receive it with a little of the stiffness of a person greeted with a guffaw. Mr. Cashmore visibly liked this silence of Nanda's about their meeting. Mrs.
Longdon, who, without his glasses, stared straight at the floor while Mr. Cashmore talked to him. She pursued, however, dispassionately enough: "He must be of a narrowness !" "Oh beautiful!" She was silent again. "I shall broaden him. YOU won't." "Heaven forbid!" Vanderbank heartily concurred. "But none the less, as I've said, I'll help you." Her attention was still fixed.
Cashmore, on the sofa face to face with her, found his consciousness quite purged of its actual sense of his weakness and a new turn given to the idea of what, in one's very drawing-room, might go on behind one's back. Harold had quickly vanished had been tacitly disposed of, and Mrs.
Cashmore, and the air of personal good health, the untarnished bloom which sometimes lent a monstrous serenity to his mention of the barely mentionable, was on occasion balanced or matched by his playful application of extravagant terms to matters of much less moment. "You know what I come to you for, Mrs. Brook: I won't come any more if you're going to be horrid and impossible."
Cashmore, though so easy, had not done with him. "I suppose you mean that if it's only your mother who's told, you may depend on her to shield you." Harold turned this over as if it were a questionable sovereign, but on second thoughts he wonderfully smiled. "Do you think that after you've let me have it you can tell? You could, of course, if you hadn't." He appeared to work it out for Mr.
"Are you the doctor?" "Yes." Dr. Cashmore stepped into the obscurity of the hall. "How's the invalid going on?" "I can scarcely tell you," said Priam. "He's in bed, very quiet." "That's right," said the doctor. "When he came to my surgery this morning I advised him to go to bed."
Brook's eyes had, on Tishy's passing away, taken the same course as Vanderbank's, whom she had visibly not neglected moreover while the pair stood there. "I give you Carrie, as you know, and I throw Mr. Cashmore in; but I'm lost in admiration to-night, as I always have been, of the way Tishy makes her ugliness serve.
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