“I know more about that than you do,” said Eddy. “You shan’t, I can tell you: for one thing, I mean to dance with you myself all the night. We go so well together, you and I. And I know how to square the chaperons--especially with _her_. She won’t dare to say anything against me.” “If you think that I would let her interfere!” said Marion; “but you are not to get things all your own way. I’ll just dance with whom I please--and maybe not with you at all.” “We’ll see about that,” said Eddy. “Yes, we’ll see about it,” cried the girl, and then there was a great laugh, as if this had been the wittiest observation in the world. If Evelyn did not hear this, she saw it, with all the advantages of spectatorship seeing more in the game than the actors themselves were aware of, probably more (which is the drawback of spectatorship), than had any existence. Would James think she was in the plot? Would he believe it was of her invention, or that she had carried it out consciously for the advantage of the others? In her first hurried discovery of this aspect of affairs, it did not occur to Evelyn that James was a man of an old-fashioned type, who believed in true love, and might sympathize with his children if they were impressed by such an influence, more than with any wise counsel or hesitation as to means. She herself, whatever her sentiments might be, belonged to a world more moved by conventional laws. She thought that she saw him with reproach in his face, looking at her as he never had done, severely, reproachfully--he to whom she owed so much, not only wealth and consideration, but tenderness and kindness, and absolute trust--Trust! that was the greatest of all: and he would think that she had betrayed him. Mr. Johnson, so-called of St. Chad’s, finished the substantial part of his banquet about this moment, and with a glance at the pastry which was visible, laid out upon the white cloth, stirred a little in his nest of heather, making the long spikes of the ling rustle, and calling forth again that pungent sweetness of the gale. Mrs. Rowland, to whom incivility was impossible, and who, though doubtful, still felt it more comprehensible that a distinguished don might be of evil appearance than that Eddy Saumarez could have told her a lie, turned towards him to see what were his wants. He was not without an ambition to shine in polite conversation, and Evelyn’s was not the aspect to discourage such attempts. He said, waving his hand as if to include the whole party, “This is a very cheerful way, if you will let me say so, of meeting for the first time.” “Yes?” said Evelyn, interrogatively. “It’s a beautiful scene,” said the stranger, “and the pie was excellent. What a nice way for ladies to join in sport, when the men’s tired and ready to be tumbled over at the first shot--ha, ha,--as seems to be the case, ma’am, in your vicinity.” “Sir?” said Mrs. Rowland.