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Page 27
"Very well, then," her husband agreed, "let us select another topic.
This time, supposing I choose?"
"You are welcome."
"Let us converse, then, about Mr. Hamar Lessingham."
Philippa had taken up her work. Her fingers ceased their labours,
but she did not look up.
"About Mr. Hamar Lessingham," she repeated. "Rather a limited
subject, I am afraid."
"I am not so sure," he said thoughtfully. "For instance, who is he?"
"I have no idea," she replied. "Does it matter? He was at college
with Richard, and he has been a visitor at Wood Norton. That is all
that we know. Surely it is sufficient for us to offer him any
reasonable hospitality?"
"I am not disputing it," Sir Henry assured her. "On the face of it,
it seems perfectly reasonable that you should be civil to him. On
the other hand, there are one or two rather curious points about his
coming here just now."
"Really?" Philippa murmured indifferently, bending a little lower
over her work.
"In the first place," her husband continued, "how did he arrive here?"
"For all I know," she replied, "he may have walked."
"A little unlikely. Still, he didn't come from London by either of
the evening trains, and it seems that you didn't take his rooms for
him until about seven o'clock, before which time he hadn't been to
the hotel. So, you see, one is driven to wonder how the mischief
he did get here."
"I took his rooms?" Philippa repeated, with a sudden little catch
at her heart.
"Some one from here rang up, didn't they?" Sir Henry went on
carelessly. "I gathered that we were introducing him at the hotel."
"Where did you hear that?" she demanded.
He shrugged his shoulders, but avoided answering the question.
"I have no doubt," he continued, "that the whole subject of Mr.
Hamar Lessingham is scarcely worth discussing. Yet he does seem to
have arrived here under a little halo of coincidence."
"I am afraid I have scarcely appreciated that," Philippa remarked;
"in fact, his coming here has seemed to me the most ordinary thing
in the world. After all, although one scarcely remembers that since
the war, this is a health resort, and the man has been ill."
"Quite right," Sir Henry agreed. "You are not going to bed, dear?"
Philippa had folded up her work. She stood for a moment upon the
hearth-rug. The little hardness which had tightened her mouth had
disappeared, her eyes had softened.
"May I say just one word more," she begged, "about our previous--our
only serious subject of conversation? I have tried my best since we
were married, Henry, to make you happy."
"You know quite well," he assured her, "that you have succeeded."
"Grant me one favour, then," she pleaded. "Give up your fishing
expedition to-morrow, go back to London by the first train and let
me write to Lord Rayton. I am sure he would do something for you."
"Of course he'd do something!" Her husband groaned. "I should get
a censorship in Ireland, or a post as instructor at Portsmouth."
"Wouldn't you rather take either of those than nothing?" she asked,
"than go on living the life you are living now?"
"To be perfectly frank with you, Philippa, I wouldn't," he declared
bluntly. "What on earth use should I be in a land appointment? Why,
no one could read my writing, and my nautical science is entirely
out of date. Why a cadet at Osborne could floor me in no time."
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