Mr. Carlyon was now on the most friendly terms with both old ladies, and
as well as coming to the monthly dinner, sometimes dropped in to tea on
Sunday afternoons, but he knew this was a real party and must be treated
as such.
How agreeable it felt to be once more in the world, Miss Roberta
thought, and her faded pale cheeks flushed a delicate pink.
John Derringham had been sulky as a bear at the idea of coming, but
something in the quaintly pathetic refinement of the poor and splendid
old house pleased him, and the aroma of untouched early-Victorian
prudish grace which the ancient ladies threw around them appealed to his
imagination, as any complete bit of art or nature always did. He found
himself seated between Miss La Sarthe and Halcyone and quite enjoying
himself. Everything was of the time from the epergne to the way the
bread was cut.
Halcyone conversed with Mr. Miller, who always felt he must make nursery
jokes with her and ask her the names of her dolls.
"He can't help it," she told Cheiron one day. "If he had any more
intelligence God would have put him to work in some busier place.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89