“Alphonso is sure to succeed to the High Priestship sooner or later. He has much influence on his side—the Prime Minister, and Lord High All Superior for public and official friends, and Mr. Barringcourt, whom I just mentioned, who has great influence in outside circles, and more money apparently than even poor Geoffrey Todbrook had. Now there’s a man for you to dislike cordially on the grounds of general favouritism. The women idolise him, and men will hear no wrong of him.”
“And what kind of a life does he lead? Is he a good man?” asked Rosalie, leaning forward and looking across at her.
“I don’t know. My brother thinks greatly of him, and so do I. But it’s hard to tell who’s good and who’s bad when you come to private life. There are so many things for and against it.”
“Still, I think as rich men go, who are young and unfettered by anything, he must be fairly good. I don’t remember ever hearing anything against him. And I know he has carried out all Geoffrey Todbrook’s wishes with regard to charities to the letter.”
“Then it would be surprising if he fell short of his duties, would it not?”
“Perhaps so. I expect he too will be at the Sebberens’ to-morrow night But if you have any conversation with Mr. Barringcourt at all, you cannot choose but like him.”
“Is his temper unfailingly pleasant, then?”
“No; it isn’t altogether that. I have known him very absent and off-hand. But I suppose people occasionally find that rather pleasant in a world of suavity and insincerity.”
“I don’t agree with you. I’d rather have people unfailingly suave. It spares a great deal of friction.”
“What has upset you, Rosalie? You are most argumentative to-night.”
“I expect you are spoiling me, and I’ve never been accustomed to it. You should treat me with stern severity, and you would find me improve wonderfully.”
“And you just preaching unfailing suavity.”
But Rosalie’s argumentative mood sprang really from the irritation that followed on the evening’s escapade.
In a cooler moment, and on reflection, she was not over and above proud of the way in which she had fled so precipitately before the enemy. And yet what was there to be done? To have stood still was to have hazarded, so Rosalie thought, far more than she had any intention of hazarding. She registered a mental vow never to go out at night alone again, and wished, oh! wished most intensely, that nothing had tempted her out that night. In her own room the frog broke the silence by saying: