They're all broken. You can't expect him to
be at his best in a ballroom. He wants a cosy, smoky, masculine
place, where he can stretch his legs out, and only speak when he's got
something to say. For myself, I find it rather dreary. But I do respect
it. They're all so much in earnest. They do take the serious things very
seriously."
The description of Hirst's way of life interested Rachel so much that
she almost forgot her private grudge against him, and her respect
revived.
"They are really very clever then?" she asked.
"Of course they are. So far as brains go I think it's true what he said
the other day; they're the cleverest people in England. But--you ought
to take him in hand," he added. "There's a great deal more in him than's
ever been got at. He wants some one to laugh at him. . . . The idea of
Hirst telling you that you've had no experiences! Poor old Hirst!"
They had been pacing up and down the terrace while they talked, and now
one by one the dark windows were uncurtained by an invisible hand, and
panes of light fell regularly at equal intervals upon the grass. They
stopped to look in at the drawing-room, and perceived Mr. Pepper writing
alone at a table.
"There's Pepper writing to his aunt," said Hewet. "She must be a very
remarkable old lady, eighty-five he tells me, and he takes her for
walking tours in the New Forest.
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