Wayward Winds by Michael Phillips

newspaperman. His eyes did rove about, it was true, which might have been a sign of a mentality awake to people and events around him—necessary for any seeker of news, especially one who sought to commit ideas to print. But he was not searching for news as much as for pretty faces, a character weakness which his previous words to Geoffrey indicated well enough.
    â€œThis is my cousin,” replied Geoffrey to the question just posed. “—Amanda Rutherford. Amanda—may I present Ramsay Halifax.”
    â€œCharmed, Miss Rutherford,” said Halifax, still holding her eyes. “Are you of the Rutherfords of Devon?”
    â€œThe same,” replied Amanda.
    â€œHeathersleigh, I believe the old family estate is called, is it not?”
    â€œYou are remarkably well informed, Mr. Halifax.”
    â€œAnd the present lord of the manor would be . . . ?” he began in questioning tone.
    â€œWould be my father,” said Amanda, completing the sentence.
    â€œAh, now it begins to become clear. The two scions of the Rutherford family coming together in harmony for the Kensington Tea!”
    Neither Amanda nor Geoffrey offered comment.
    â€œBut if my memory serves me . . .” Halifax continued, then paused, glancing over Amanda’s face again with index finger pressed to his lips, “—I have the feeling I have seen you someplace before.”
    â€œSurely, Halifax,” chided Geoffrey, beginning to tire of the newsman’s presence, “you can be more original than that!”
    â€œNo—I mean it. I’m sure I know your face. Did I see you in the Times about something or other?”
    â€œYou may have,” answered Amanda. “There were reporters and photographers at one of our rallies two weeks ago.”
    â€œRallies?”
    â€œShe’s a suffragette, Halifax,” put in Geoffrey. “Come on, Amanda,” he added, attempting to move away.
    â€œThat’s it!” exclaimed Halifax, ignoring him. “You were next to the Pankhurst girls. There was a picture on page three. So—you’re part of the radical new women’s movement!”
    â€œYou disapprove?”
    â€œI didn’t say that.”
    â€œYour tone implied it.”
    â€œDon’t assume too much, Miss Rutherford. Journalists have to walk both sides of many fences, and I’m better at it than most of my colleagues. Besides, you suffragettes have been relatively quiet since last November’s Black Friday and the Downing Street ruckus.”
    â€œIt is said that the government plans to pass the Conciliation Bill later this spring or early in the summer. We can be patient.”
    â€œIs it true that Mr. Churchill actually had one of his wife’s close friends run off like a common tramp during the Downing Street affair?”
    â€œThat’s the report,” answered Amanda.
    â€œWhat about your father?” said Halifax in a slightly more journalistic tone. “It was a shock to the whole country when he resigned from the Commons.”
    Amanda did her best not to display her own emotions at the memory. She did not comment.
    â€œAlthough I must say he is managing to keep himself in the news, what with an occasional speech at university about modern inventions. And he’s become one of the country’s leading experts on the practical uses of electricity, from what I hear. What do you think about your father’s new approach to social involvement, or should I say non -involvement?”
    â€œI prefer not to think about it at all,” replied Amanda.
    â€œA noncommittal answer,” laughed Halifax. “Just what I should have expected from the daughter of a former M.P.”
    â€œPlease do not read diplomacy into my words, Mr. Halifax. I really am completely uninterested in my father’s affairs.”
    Geoffrey, who had been growing more and more uneasy relegated to the role of listener, finally