Muriel looked at her, puzzled. Diana reddened, and kissed her.
"What did he want, then?"
"He came to ask whether you would take the visiting of Fetter Lane--and
a class in Sunday-school."
Diana gasped.
"What did you say?"
"Never mind. He went away quelled."
"No doubt he thought I ought to be glad to be set to work."
"Oh! they are all masterful--that sort."
Diana walked on.
"I suppose he gossiped about the election?"
"Yes. He has all sorts of stories--about the mines--and the Tallyn
estates," said Muriel, unwillingly.
Diana's look flashed.
"Do you believe he has any power of collecting evidence fairly? I don't.
He sees what he wants to see."
Mrs. Colwood agreed; but did not feel called upon to confirm Diana's
view by illustrations. She kept Mr. Lavery's talk to herself.
Presently, as the evening fell, Diana sitting under the limes watching
the shadows lengthen on the new-mown grass, wondered whether she had any
mind--any opinions of her own at all. Her father; Oliver; Mr. Ferrier;
Marion Vincent--she saw and felt with them all in turn. In the eyes of a
Mrs. Fotheringham could anything be more despicable?
The sun was sinking when she stole out of the garden with some flowers
and peaches for Betty Dyson.
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