BOOK FOURTH: MR. CASHMORE
She wondered. "And pray how will that help me? Help me, I mean, to help you. Is it what I'm to tell your wife?"
He sat looking away, but he evidently had his idea, which he at last produced. "Why wouldn't it be just the thing? It would exactly prove my purity."
There might have been in her momentary silence a hint of acceptance of it as a practical contribution to their problem, and there were indeed several lights in which it could be considered. Mrs. Brook, on a quick survey, selected the ironic. "I see, I see. I might, by the same law, arrange somehow that Lady Fanny should find herself in love with Edward. That would 'prove' her purity. And you could be quite at ease," she laughed—"he wouldn't make any presents!"
Mr. Cashmore regarded her with a candor that was almost a reproach to her mirth. "I like your daughter better than I like you."
But it only amused her more. "Is that perhaps because I don't prove your purity?"
What he might have replied remained in the air, for the door opened so exactly at the moment she spoke that he rose again with a start and the butler, coming in, received her inquiry full in the face. This functionary's answer to it, however, had no more than the usual austerity. "Mr. Vanderbank and Mr. Longdon."
These visitors took a minute to appear, and Mrs. Brook, not stirring—still only looking, from the sofa, calmly up at Mr. Cashmore—used the time, it might have seemed, for correcting any impression of undue levity made by her recent question. "Where did you last meet Nanda?"
He glanced at the door to see if he were heard. "At the Grendons'."
"So you do go there?"
"I went over from Hicks the other day for an hour."
"And Carrie was there?"
143
