Thus kissing her grandmother, Barbara resumed her seat, and looked at
Courtier. 'Sitting three' as they were, he was touching her, and it
seemed to her somehow that he did not mind.
The wind had risen, blowing from the West, and sunshine was flying
on it. The call of the cuckoos--a little sharpened--followed the
swift-travelling car. And that essential sweetness of the moor, born of
the heather roots and the South-West wind, was stealing out from under
the young ferns.
With her thin nostrils distended to this scent, Lady Casterley bore a
distinct resemblance to a small, fine game-bird.
"You smell nice down here," she said. "Now, Mr. Courtier, before I
forget--who is this Mrs. Lees Noel that I hear so much of?"
At that question, Barbara could not help sliding her eyes round. How
would he stand up to Granny? It was the moment to see what he was made
of. Granny was terrific!
"A very charming woman, Lady Casterley."
"No doubt; but I am tired of hearing that. What is her story?"
"Has she one?"
"Ha!" said Lady Casterley.
Ever so slightly Barbara let her arm press against Courtiers. It was so
delicious to hear Granny getting no forwarder.
"I may take it she has a past, then?"
"Not from me, Lady Casterley."
Again Barbara gave him that imperceptible and flattering touch.
"Well, this is all very mysterious.
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