He laughed shortly—a tribute to her mimicry—but it was a difficult laugh. The desperately ennuy e pose, the lax drawl, the unaccustomed mental effort and the sudden self-congratulatory “ah-ha!”—hitting off to a hair the lackadaisical boredom of the haplessly rich young boulevardier—this was the countryside’s pen-picture of him! “Don’t you consider a longing for nature a wholesome sign?” “Perhaps. The vagaries of the rich are always suggestive.” “You think there’s no chance of his choosing to stay here because he actually likes it?” “Not the slightest,” she said indifferently. “You are so certain of this without ever having seen him?” She glanced at him covertly, annoyedly sensible [Pg 170]of the impropriety of the discussion, since the man discussed was certainly his patron, maybe his friend. But his insistence had roused a certain balky wilfulness that would have its way. “It’s true I’ve never seen him,” she said, “but I’ve read about him a hundred times in the Sunday supplements. He’s a regular feature of the high-roller section. His idea of a good time is a dog-banquet at Sherry’s. Why, a girl told me once that there was a cigarette named after him—the Vanity Valiant!” An angry glint slanted across his eyes. For some reason the silly story on her lips stung him deeply. “You find the Sunday newspapers always so dependable?” “Well,” she flashed, “you must know Mr. Valiant. Is he a useful citizen? What has he ever done except play polo and furnish spicy paragraphs for the society columns?” “Isn’t that beside the point? Because he has been an idler, must he necessarily be a—vandal?” She laughed again. “He wouldn’t call it vandalism. He’d think it decided improvement to make Damory Court as frantically different as possible. I suppose he’ll erect a glass cupola and a porte-coch re, all up-to-date and varnishy, and put orchid hot-houses where the wilderness garden was, and a modern marble cupid instead of the summer-house, and lay out a kite-shaped track—” [Pg 171] Everything that was impulsive and explosive in John Valiant’s nature came out with a bang. “No!” he cried, “whatever else he is, he’s not such a preposterous ass as that!” She faced him squarely now. Her eyes were sparkling. “Since you know him so intimately and so highly approve of him—” “No, no,” he interrupted. “You mistake me. I shouldn’t try to justify him.” His flush had risen to the roots of his brown hair, but he did not lower his gaze. Now the red color slowly ebbed, leaving him pale. “He has been an idler—that’s true enough—and till a week ago he was ‘idiotically rich.’ But his idling is over now. At this moment, except for this one property, he is little better than a beggar.” She had taken a hasty step or two back from him, and her eyes were now fixed on his with a dawning half-fearful question in them.