Joe and Sybil, who knew her better, made
themselves at home.
It appeared that although Sam had gone to make inquiries, it was very
improbable that anything would be known until late in the afternoon. There
was to be a contest of some sort, but whether it would end in a single
day, or whether Ballymolloy and his men intended to prolong the struggle
for their own ends, remained to be seen.
Meanwhile Mrs. Wyndham walked about her drawing-room descanting upon the
iniquities of political life, with an animation that delighted Joe and
amused Ronald.
"Well, there is nothing for it, you see," she said at last. "Sam evidently
does not mean to come home, and you must just stay here and have some
lunch until he does."
The three agreed, nothing loath to enjoying one another's company. There
is nothing like a day spent together in waiting for an event, to bring out
the characteristics of individuals. Mrs. Wyndham fretted and talked, and
fretted again. Joe grew silent, pale, and anxious as the morning passed,
while Sybil and Ronald seemed to enjoy themselves extremely, and talked
without ceasing.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292