As they emerged upon the Keswick road he tapped the chauffeur on the
shoulder. "Do you know Green Cottage?"
"Mrs. Penfold's, sir? Certainly."
"How far is it?"
"I should say about two miles."
"Go there, please."
The two miles passed for Faversham in a double excitement he had some
difficulty in concealing; the physical excitement of change and movement,
of this reentry upon a new world, which was the old; and the mental
excitement of his own position.
At the cottage door, he dismounted slowly. The maid-servant said she
thought Mrs. Penfold was in the garden. Would the gentleman please come
in?
Faversham, leaning on his stick, made his way through the tiny hall of
the cottage, and the drawing-room door was thrown open for him. A young
lady was sitting at the farther end, who rose with a slight cry of
astonishment. It was Lydia.
Through her reception of him Faversham soon learnt what are the
privileges of the wounded, and how glad are all good women of excuses to
be kind. Lydia placed him in the best chair, in front of the best view,
ordered tea, and hovered round him with an eager benevolence. Her mother,
she said, would be in directly. Faversham, on his side, could only
secretly hope that Mrs. Penfold's walk might be prolonged.
They were not interrupted. Lydia, with concern, conjectured that Mrs.
Penfold and Susan had gone to visit a couple of maiden ladies, living
half a mile off along the road. But she showed not the smallest
awkwardness in entertaining her guest.
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