Five minutes later, he quitted the house.  It was raining lightly.  Whilst he looked upward to give the cabman his address, drops fell upon his face, and he found their coolness pleasant.

During the ride home, he indulged a limitless wrath against Iris Woolstan.  That busybody had spoilt his evening, had thrown disturbance into his mind just when it was enjoying the cheeriest hopes.  As likely as not she would learn that he had had a long talk with May Tomalin, and, seeing the girl, she would put her own interpretation on the fib he had told her.  What a nuisance it was to have to do with these feminine creatures, all fuss and impulsiveness and sentimentality!  It would not surprise him in the least if she made a scene about this evening.  Already, the other day, her tone when she accused him of giving her a false idea of Lady Ogram’s niece proved the possibility of nonsensical trouble.  The thing was a gross absurdity.  Had he not, from the very beginning of their friendship, been careful to adopt a tone as uncompromising as man could use?  Had he not applied to her his “method” in all its rigour?  What right had she to worry him with idiotic jealousies?  Could anyone have behaved more honourably than he throughout their intercourse?  Why, the average man—­

His debt?  What had that to do with the matter?  The very fact of his accepting a loan of money from her emphasised the dry nature of their relations.  That money must quickly be repaid, or he would have no peace.  The woman began to presume upon his indebtedness, he saw that clearly.  Her tone had been different, ever since.

Deuce take the silly creature!  She had made him thoroughly uncomfortable.  What it was to have delicate sensibilities!

CHAPTER XIV

Having an imperious Will and an intelligence merely practical, it was natural for Lady Ogram to imagine that, even as she imposed her authority on others in outward things, so had she sway over their minds; what she willed that others should think, that, she took for granted, they thought.  Seeing herself as an entirely beneficent potentate; unable to distinguish for a moment between her arbitrary impulses and the well-meaning motives which often directed her; she assumed as perfectly natural that all within her sphere of action must regard her with grateful submissiveness.  So, for example, having decided that a marriage between Dyce Lashmar and Constance Bride would be a very good thing for both, and purposing large generosity towards them when it should have come about, she found it very difficult to conceive that either of her young friends could take any other view of the matter.  When observation obliged her to doubt the correctness of her first impressions, she grew only the more determined that things should be as she wished.  Since the coming of May Tomalin, a new reason—­or rather, emotion—­ fortified her resolve; seeing a possibility, even a likelihood, that May and Lashmar might attract each other, and having very definite views with regard to her niece, she was impatient for a declared betrothal of Constance and the aspiring politician.  Their mutual aloofness irritated her more than she allowed to be seen, and the moment approached when she could no longer endure such playing with her serious purposes.