'Couldn't we get another key?'she asked in her soft voice,that underneath had the ring of a woman determined to get her way.
'Another!'he said,glancing at her with a flash of anger,touched with derision.
'Yes,a duplicate,'she said,flushing.
''Appen Sir Clifford 'ud know,'he said,putting her off.
'Yes!'she said,'he might have another.Otherwise we could have one made from the one you have.It would only take a day or so,I suppose.
You could spare your key for so long.'
'Ah canna tell yer,m'Lady!Ah know nob'dy as ma'es keys round 'ere.'
Connie suddenly flushed with anger.
'Very well!'she said.'I'll see to it.'
'All right,your Ladyship.'
Their eyes met.His had a cold,ugly look of dislike and contempt,and indifference to what would happen.Hers were hot with rebuff.
But her heart sank,she saw how utterly he disliked her,when she went against him.And she saw him in a sort of desperation.
'Good afternoon!'
'Afternoon,my Lady!'He saluted and turned abruptly away.She had wakened the sleeping dogs of old voracious anger in him,anger against the self-willed female.And he was powerless,powerless.He knew it!
And she was angry against the self-willed male.A servant too!She walked sullenly home.
She found Mrs Bolton under the great beech-tree on the knoll,looking for her.
'I just wondered if you'd be coming,my Lady,'the woman said brightly.
'Am I late?'asked Connie.
'Oh only Sir Clifford was waiting for his tea.'
'Why didn't you make it then?'
'Oh,I don't think it's hardly my place.I don't think Sir Clifford would like it at all,my Lady.'
'I don't see why not,'said Connie.
She went indoors to Clifford's study,where the old brass kettle was simmering on the tray.
'Am I late,Clifford?'she said,putting down the few flowers and taking up the tea-caddy,as she stood before the tray in her hat and scarf.'I'm sorry!Why didn't you let Mrs Bolton make the tea?'
'I didn't think of it,'he said ironically.'I don't quite see her presiding at the tea-table.'
'Oh,there's nothing sacrosanct about a silver tea-pot,'said Connie.
He glanced up at her curiously.
'What did you do all afternoon?'he said.
'Walked and sat in a sheltered place.Do you know there are still berries on the big holly-tree?'
She took off her scarf,but not her hat,and sat down to make tea.The toast would certainly be leathery.She put the tea-cosy over the tea-pot,and rose to get a little glass for her violets.The poor flowers hung over,limp on their stalks.
'They'll revive again!'she said,putting them before him in their glass for him to smell.
'Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,'he quoted.
'I don't see a bit of connexion with the actual violets,'she said.
'The Elizabethans are rather upholstered.'
She poured him his tea.
'Do you think there is a second key to that little hut not far from John's Well,where the pheasants are reared?'she said.
'There may be.Why?'
'I happened to find it today--and I'd never seen it before.I think it's a darling place.I could sit there sometimes,couldn't I?'
'Was Mellors there?'
'Yes!That's how I found it:his hammering.He didn't seem to like my intruding at all.In fact he was almost rude when I asked about a second key.'
'What did he say?'
'Oh,nothing:just his manner;and he said he knew nothing about keys.'
'There may be one in Father's study.Betts knows them all,they're all there.I'll get him to look.'
'Oh do!'she said.
'So Mellors was almost rude?'
'Oh,nothing,really!But I don't think he wanted me to have the ******* of the castle,quite.'
'I don't suppose he did.'
'Still,I don't see why he should mind.It's not his home,after all!
It's not his private abode.I don't see why I shouldn't sit there if Iwant to.'
'Quite!'said Clifford.'He thinks too much of himself,that man.'
'Do you think he does?'
'Oh,decidedly!He thinks he's something exceptional.You know he had a wife he didn't get on with,so he joined up in 1915and was sent to India,I believe.Anyhow he was blacksmith to the cavalry in Egypt for a time;always was connected with horses,a clever fellow that way.Then some Indian colonel took a fancy to him,and he was made a lieutenant.Yes,they gave him a commission.I believe he went back to India with his colonel,and up to the north-west frontier.He was ill;he was a pension.He didn't come out of the army till last year,I believe,and then,naturally,it isn't easy for a man like that to get back to his own level.He's bound to flounder.But he does his duty all right,as far as I'm concerned.Only I'm not having any of the Lieutenant Mellors touch.'
'How could they make him an officer when he speaks broad Derbyshire?'
'He doesn't...except by fits and starts.He can speak perfectly well,for him.I suppose he has an idea if he's come down to the ranks again,he'd better speak as the ranks speak.'
'Why didn't you tell me about him before?'
'Oh,I've no patience with these romances.They're the ruin of all order.
It's a thousand pities they ever happened.'
Connie was inclined to agree.What was the good of discontented people who fitted in nowhere?
In the spell of fine weather Clifford,too,decided to go to the wood.
The wind was cold,but not so tiresome,and the sunshine was like life itself,warm and full.
'It's amazing,'said Connie,'how different one feels when there's a really fresh fine day.Usually one feels the very air is half dead.People are killing the very air.'
'Do you think people are doing it?'he asked.
'I do.The steam of so much boredom,and discontent and anger out of all the people,just kills the vitality in the air.I'm sure of it.'
'Perhaps some condition of the atmosphere lowers the vitality of the people?'he said.
'No,it's man that poisons the universe,'she asserted.
'Fouls his own nest,'remarked Clifford.
