“My child, he calls it ‘artistic temperament.’ So much nicer. Awfully interesting, but sometimes rather trying. His father had it too.” Then Mrs. Ramsay realised that she was saying things to separate Stephen from Elizabeth, and she managed to stop herself, and to smile. “But he’s always charming, and—if you go about it the right way— easy to manage. How dreadful of us to talk about him like this! He wanted to come to tea to-day, and I wouldn’t let him. I preferred to have my future daughter to myself.”

“I’m glad you did,” Elizabeth said. “It’s easier in a way—to get to know one another. I was—awfully pleased to be able to come.”

“Rather an ordeal,” Mrs. Ramsay commented.

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth assured her. “Not a bit!”

Mrs. Ramsay felt glad that Cynthia was not there. Cynthia would have been triumphant; perhaps she would even have sneered.

“I want you to come and see me just whenever you feel like it,” Mrs. Ramsay said. “I Don’t bother to ring up; come.”

“Thank you—it’s very kind of you,” Elizabeth stammered.

“It isn’t a bit. I want to get to know you, and I want you to know me. So much more satisfactory for both of us. So drop in on me, won’t you? I can’t bear ceremony.”

“I should love to,” Elizabeth said; but Mrs. Ramsay knew that she would wait to be invited.

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth wanted to “show off” her engagement to Mr. Hengist. It was the way Mr. Hengist spoke and looked, the little ironical things he said that made her want to do this. Mr. Hengist thought her stupid; he laughed at her, and said, For God’s sake be natural! Now surely he would recognise that she was not stupid: how could she be when Stephen Ramsay had chosen her for his wife? She had been proud to introduce Stephen to Mr. Hengist as a friend; she was immeasurably proud to speak of him as “my fiance.” The mantle of his brilliancy seemed in some mysterious way to have fallen about her shoulders; she held her head higher; in imagination she was Mrs. Stephen Ramsay “whom you must know, my dear!”

Yet, in the end, it was disappointing, and Mr. Hengist was unresponding and unimpressed. It was queer how Elizabeth cared for his opinion, and liked him even when he annoyed her most.

He came one evening to smoke a pipe with Lawrence, and because Lawrence was out, he went into the drawing-room, where Elizabeth sat with Miss Arden.

“Aha!” Miss Arden cried archly, “you’ve come to congratulate our little Elizabeth!”

Mr. Hengist shook hands with them both in his quiet way, and said, after the tiniest pause,

“Yes. I suppose so. I hope you’ll be very happy, Elizabeth.”