Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed
ceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out.
As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her
counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted
bullock.
"Well, I don't think much of _he,"_ said Mary Wells.
Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed
and taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but
was more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in
digesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and
filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave
her companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr.
Rolfe.
"You couldn't get in a word edgeways," said Mary Wells.
"I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter."
"He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow."
"How _can_ he, and see other men?"
"Well. I don't think much of him, for my part."
"I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly
thing."
"I don't know; that was afore my time" (rather pertly).
"Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her."
On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent
directions to the coachman and grooms.
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