“You mean well, my dear, and I thank you. What you have said will receive my due consideration.”
“Je ne demande que ça!” She swept him a curtesy, and then turned to Lady Pomfret. Her voice softened delightfully:
“You have been sweet to me. Thank you for your gracious hospitality. I hate kissing, but may I kiss you?”
She bent down and kissed the softly tinted cheek. Lady Pomfret answered tremulously:
“Perhaps another visit, at a happier time, will make you forget what has passed.”
Margot held out her hand to Sir Geoffrey.
“Good-bye, Sir Geoffrey. You have a charming son. If you will give him my love, I don’t think he will misunderstand me.”
Sir Geoffrey stood erect, very impassive.
“As a favour to me—don’t! I disturbed you just now. Let me pop off quietly. _Au revoir!_”
Half protesting, he consented, opening the door for her to pass out. She blew another kiss to Lady Pomfret, just before she vanished. The Squire came back to his wife, who was reflecting that her visitor had a knack at exits and entrances.
“Rather a spoiled beauty,” growled the Squire. “These London girls are all alike. I thought she looked scraggy, Mary. Thin blood—thin blood. An uncle died in an asylum.”
“Now, my dear, Ben is almost due. Tackle—him.”
Lady Pomfret became alert. Her eyes sparkled as she repeated reflectively:
“Do that and all will be well. I shall leave you now, and smoke a cigar on the terrace. Give me a call, if you want me.”
Lady Pomfret looked steadily at him; he smiled at her reassuringly. As he was selecting a cigar he heard her voice.
“You mean exactly what you say, Geoffrey? I am to make Ben see himself as I see him?”
He lit his cigar, puffed at it, and bent down, chuckling, to tap her cheek. Standing at the door he said a last word:
“When you have pulverised him, put your dear head out o’ window and beckon to me. I’ll nip in to receive his apology. And don’t forget! I’m doing this for you.”
Left alone, Lady Pomfret leaned her head upon her hand. She knew what had passed between master and man, just the bare recital of the facts from the Squire’s mouth without further comment from him. The fact that he had invited comment and seemed, indeed, to shrink from it, made things a little easier for her. Like Lionel, he wished to spare her pain and anxiety. That was obvious. Also he considered that he could deal with the situation without her. But had he an inkling of her real feelings? And when he learnt the truth, how would he take it?