But now, during this fortnight, which, for
her sake, he had devoted to Miltoun's cause, his feeling had advanced
beyond the point of comfort.
He did not admit that the reason of this uneasiness was Courtier, for,
after all, Courtier was, in a sense, nobody, and 'an extremist' into
the bargain, and an extremist always affected the centre of Harbinger's
anatomy, causing it to give off a peculiar smile and tone of voice.
Nevertheless, his eyes, whenever they fell on that sanguine, steady,
ironic face, shone with a sort of cold inquiry, or were even darkened by
the shade of fear. They met seldom, it is true, for most of his day was
spent in motoring and speaking, and most of Courtier's in writing and
riding, his leg being still too weak for walking. But once or twice
in the smoking room late at night, he had embarked on some bantering
discussion with the champion of lost causes; and very soon an
ill-concealed impatience had crept into his voice. Why a man should
waste his time, flogging dead horses on a journey to the moon, was
incomprehensible! Facts were facts, human nature would never be anything
but human nature! And it was peculiarly galling to see in Courtier's eye
a gleam, to catch in his voice a tone, as if he were thinking: "My young
friend, your soup is cold!"
On a morning after one of these encounters, seeing Barbara sally forth
in riding clothes, he asked if he too might go round the stables, and
started forth beside her, unwontedly silent, with an odd feeling about
his heart, and his throat unaccountably dry.
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