"He used to. But I don't know that he does now."

"I suppose he has a tremendous amount to do."

"He used to do much more at Liverpool. If a man wishes to come to the
front he mustn't sit in an armchair with folded hands."

There was a sharp sound of criticism in her voice which astonished
Malling. At the luncheon, only about a fortnight ago, she had shown
herself plainly as the adoring wife, anxious for her husband's success,
nervously hostile to any one who interfered with it, who stood between
him and the homage of his world. Now Malling noted, or thought he noted,
a change in her mental attitude. He was instantly on the alert.

"I'm sure that's the last thing Mr. Harding would do," he said.

She shot a glance at him out of her discontented dark eyes.

"Are you?" she said.

And sarcasm crept in the words. She gave to Malling at this moment the
impression of a woman so strung up as to be not her natural self, so
tormented by some feeling, perhaps long repressed, that her temperament
was almost furiously seeking an outlet, knowing instinctively, perhaps,
that only there lay its salvation.

"His record proves it," said Malling, with serenely smiling assurance.

Lady Sophia twisted her lips. The Academy tea was very strong. Perhaps