“Oh, come—you’ve inverted the formula,” he said, reaching out for the enamelled match-box at his elbow. She let the pleasantry pass with a slight smile, and he went on reverting to his grievance: “'Why didn’t you want me to engage Miss Brent?”
“Oh, I don’t know … some instinct.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“I couldn’t if I tried; and now, after all”
“After all—what?”
She reflected. “You’ll have Cicely off your mind, I mean.”
“Cicely off my mind?” Mr. Langhope was beginning to find his charming friend less consolatory than usual. After all, the most magnanimous woman has her circuitous way of saying I told you so. “As if any good governess couldn’t have done that for me!” he grumbled.
“Ah—the present care for her. But I was looking ahead,” she rejoined.
“To what—if I may ask?”
“The next few years—when Mrs. Amherst may have children of her own.”
“Children of her own?” He bounded up, furious at the suggestion.
“Had it never occurred to you?”
“Hardly as a source of consolation!”
“I think a philosophic mind might find it so.”
[ 468 ]
