‘Nor with us particularly, but we jog on.’
‘The climate doesn’t suit Clare, apparently.’
Corven’s expression remained watchful and slightly smiling.
‘The hot weather didn’t, but that’s over.’
‘Are you taking her back with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder if that’s wise.’
‘To leave her would be less so. One’s either married or not.’
Sir Lawrence, watching his eyes, thought: ‘Shan’t go further. It’s hopeless. Besides, he’s probably right. Only I would bet –’
‘Forgive me,’ said Corven, ‘I must get these letters off.’ He turned and moved away, trim and assured.
‘H’m!’ thought Sir Lawrence, ‘not exactly what you’d call fruitful.’ And he sat down again to his letter to The Times.
‘I must get precise figures,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll turn Michael on to it’… And his thoughts went back to Corven. Impossible, in such cases, to know where the blame really lay. After all, a misfit was a misfit, no amount of pious endeavour, or even worldly wisdom, would cure it. ‘I ought to have been a judge,’ he thought, ‘then I could have expressed my views. Mr Justice Mont in the course of his judgement said: “It is time to warn the people of this country against marriage. That tie, which was all very well under Victoria, should now only be contracted in cases where there is full evidence to show that neither party has any individuality to speak of… I think I’ll go home to Em.’ He blotted the perfectly dry letter to The Times, put it into his pocket, and sought the darkening placidity of Pall Mall. He had stopped to look in at the window of his wine merchant’s in St James’s Street, and consider once more where the extra ten per cent on his surtax was to come from, when a voice said:
‘Good evening, Sir Lawrence!’ It was the young man called Croom.
They crossed the street together.
‘I wanted to thank you, sir, for speaking to Mr Muskham. I’ve seen him today.’
‘How did you find him?’
‘Oh! very affable. Of course I agree it is a bee in his bonnet about introducing that cross of Arab blood into our racehorses.’
‘Did you show him you thought so?’
Young Croom smiled: ‘Hardly! But the Arab horse is so much smaller.’
‘There’s something in it, all the same. Jack’s only wrong in expecting quick results. It’s like politics, people won’t lay down for the future. If a thing doesn’t work within five years, we think it’s no good. Did Jack say he’d take you on?’
‘He’ll give me a trial. I’m to go down for a week, so that he can see me with horses. But the mares are not going to Royston. He’s got a place for them above Oxford near Bablock Hythe. I should be there if I pass muster. It’s not till the spring, though.’
‘Jack’s a formalist,’ said Sir Lawrence, as they entered the Coffee House; ‘you’ll have to mind your p’s and q’s.’
Young Croom smiled.
‘You bet. Everything’s simply perfect at his stud farm. Luckily I really am frightfully keen about horses. I didn’t feel at sea with Mr Muskham. It’s an immense relief to have a chance again; and there’s nothing I’d like better.’
Sir Lawrence smiled – enthusiasm was always pleasant.
‘You must know my son,’ he said, ‘he’s an enthusiast too, though he must be thirty-seven by now. You’ll be in his constituency – no, just out of it. You’ll be in Dornford’s, I expect. But the way, you know my niece is acting secretary for him?’
Young Croom nodded.
‘I don’t know,’ murmured Sir Lawrence, ‘whether that’ll go on now Corven’s over.’ And he watched the young man’s expression.
It had perceptibly darkened. ‘Oh! it will. She won’t go back to Ceylon.’
It was said with frowning suddenness, and Sir Lawrence thought: ‘This is where I weigh myself.’ Young Croom followed him to the weighing machine, as if he did not know how not to. He was very red.
‘What makes you sure of that?’ said Sir Lawrence, looking up from the historic chair. Young Croom went even redder.
‘One doesn’t come away just to go back.’
‘Or one does. If Life were a racehorse it’d be always up before the stewards for running in and out.’
‘I happen to know Lady Corven won’t, sir.’
It was clear to Sir Lawrence that he had lighted on a moment when feeling gets the better of discretion. So the young man was in love with her! Was this a chance to warn him off the course? Or was it more graceful to take no notice?