"I'm glad you've been amused, Luce," he said, his eyes resting upon the
beautifully fair face with a touch of cynicism.
"We'd no idea you were anywhere here," she said, "or, of course, I would
have written and asked you to join us; though, I suppose, under the
circumstances----"
She hesitated for a moment, then went on with a little embarrassment,
which in no way detracted from her charm of voice and manner: "I told father that, after what had happened, it was scarcely in good
taste to borrow your yacht. But you know what father is. He said that
though things were altered, your offer of the _Seagull_ stood good; that
you told him you didn't mean to use her this season, and that it was a
pity for her to lie idle. And so they persuaded me--very much against my
will, I must admit--to join them, and--and here I am, as you see."
Drake puffed at his pipe.
"I see," he said. "I needn't say that you are quite welcome to the
yacht, Lucille, or to anything that I have. As you say, things
are--altered. How much they are altered and changed, perhaps your
letters, if I had received them, would have told me. What was it that
you wrote me? Oh, don't be afraid," he added, with a faint smile, as she
turned her head away and poked with her sunshade at the crack in the
pavement. "I am strong; I can bear it. When a man has come a cropper in
every sense of the word, his nerves are braced for the receipt of
unwelcome tidings. I beg you won't be uncomfortable. Of course, you have
heard the news?"
She glanced at him sideways, and, despite her training, her lips
quivered slightly.
"Of course," she said. "Who hasn't? All the world knows it. Lord
Angleford's marriage has come upon us like a surprise--a thunderbolt. No
one would ever have expected that he would have been so foolish."
Drake looked at her as he never thought that he could have looked at
her--calmly, waitingly.
"No one expected him to marry," she went on. "He was quite an old
man--well, not old, but getting on. And you and he were always such
great friends. He--he always seemed so fond and so proud of you. Why did
you quarrel with him?"
"I didn't quarrel with him," said Drake quietly. "As you say, we have
always been good friends. He has always been good to me, ever since I
was a boy. Good and liberal. We have never had a cross word until now.
But you know my uncle--you know how keenly set he is on politics. He is
a Conservative of the old school; one of those old Tories whom we call
blue, and who are nearly extinct. God knows whether they are right or
wrong; I only know that I can't go with them. He asked me to stand for a
place in the Tory-Conservative interest. It was an easy place; I should
have been returned without difficulty. Most men would have done it; but
I couldn't. I don't go in very much for principle, either political or
moral; but my uncle's views--well, I couldn't swallow them. I was
obliged to decline. He cut up rough; sent me a letter with more bad
language in it than I've ever read in my life. Then he went and married
a young girl--an American."