“Anyway,” impatiently, “you can’t stay here!”
“Very good,” she replied, “very good. As you are so kind, I’ll take a day to think of it.” And with a cool nod she turned her back on the puzzled White, and went off down the park towards the town.
He went back to Sir Robert. “She’s a stranger, sir,” he said; “and, I think, a bit gone in the head. I could make nothing of her.”
Sir Robert drew a deep breath. “You’re sure she was a stranger?” he said.
“She’s no one I know, sir. After one of the men, perhaps.”
Sir Robert straightened himself. He had spent a bad ten minutes gazing at the distant figure. “Just so,” he said. “Very likely. And now what is it, White?”
“I’ve bad news, sir, I’m afraid,” the agent said, in an altered tone.
“It’s that d——d Pybus, sir! I’m afraid that, after all——”
The old gentleman’s eyes gleamed. “Afraid, sir, afraid?” he cried. “On the contrary, so much the better. It will cost me some money, but I can spare it; and it will cost them more, and nothing for it. Afraid? I don’t understand you.”
The agent, standing on the step below him, coughed dubiously. “Well, sir,” he said, “what you say is reasonable. But——”
“There is so much excitement in the country at this time——”
“So much greediness in the country,” Sir Robert retorted, striking his stick upon the stone steps. “So much unscrupulousness, sir; so many liars promising, and so many fools listening; so much to get, and so many who would like it! There’s all that, if you please; but for excitement, I don’t know”—with a severe look—“what you mean, or what it has to do with us.”
“I am afraid, sir, there is bad news from Devon, where it is said our candidate is retiring.”
“A good man, but weak; neither one side nor the other.”
“And from Dorset, sir, where they say Mr. Bankes will be beaten.”
“I’ll not believe it,” Sir Robert answered positively. “I’ll never believe it. Mr. Bankes beaten in Dorset! Absurd! Why do you listen to such tales? Why do you listen? By G—d, White, what is the matter with you? Or how does it touch us if Mr. Bankes is beaten? Nine votes to four! Nine will still be nine, and four four, if he be beaten. When you can make four to be more than nine you may come whining to me!”
“Well, Sir Robert, I am afraid he has been getting some queer notions.”