It might have been worse, no doubt. If;
for instance, he had been some 'impossible' Nonconformist Radical! This
Mr. Courtier was a free lance--rather a well-known man, an interesting
creature. She must see that he felt 'at home' and comfortable. If he
were pumped judiciously, no doubt one could find out about this woman.
Moreover, the acceptance of their 'salt' would silence him politically
if she knew anything of that type of man, who always had something in
him of the Arab's creed. Her mind, that of a capable administrator,
took in all the practical significance of this incident, which, although
untoward, was not without its comic side to one disposed to find zest
and humour in everything that did not absolutely run counter to her
interests and philosophy.
The voice of little Ann broke in on her reflections.
"I'm going to Auntie Babs now."
"Very well; give me a kiss first."
Little Ann thrust up her face, so that its sudden little nose penetrated
Lady Valleys' soft curving lips....
When early that same afternoon Courtier, leaning on a stick, passed
from his room out on to the terrace, he was confronted by three sunlit
peacocks marching slowly across a lawn towards a statue of Diana. With
incredible dignity those birds moved, as if never in their lives had
they been hurried. They seemed indeed to know that when they got there,
there would be nothing for them to do but to come back again.
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