Kendal never added anything to the unities
of their conversation when he joined these two; he seemed
rather to break up what they had to say to each other
and attract it to himself. He always gave an accent to
the life and energy of their talk; but he made them both
self-conscious and watchful--seemed to put them, as it
were, upon their guard against one another, in a way
which Janet found vaguely distressing. It was invariably
as if Kendal turned their intercourse into a joust by
his mere presence as spectator; as if--Janet put it
plainly to herself, reddening--they mutely asked him to
bestow the wreath on one of them. She almost made up her
mind to ask Elfrida where their understanding went to
when John Kendal came up, but she had not found it possible
yet. There was an embarrassing chance that Elfrida did
not feel their change of attitude, which would entail
nameless surmises.
"You ought to be at work," Janet said severely to Kendal,
"back at Barbizon or in the fields somewhere. It won't
be always June."
"Ah, would you banish him!" Elfrida exclaimed daintily.
"Surely Hyde Park is rustic enough--in June."
Kendal smiled into her face. "It combines all the charm
of the country," he began.
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