The marigolds in the garden
required no transmutation....
Georgie had quite "to pull himself together," as he stepped round Mrs
Quantock's mulberry tree, and ten paces later round his own, before he
could recapture his normal evening mood, on those occasions when he was
going to dine alone. Usually these evenings were very pleasant and much
occupied, for they did not occur very often in this whirl of Riseholme
life, and it was not more than once a week that he spent a solitary
evening, and then, if he got tired of his own company, there were half
a dozen houses, easy of access where he could betake himself in his
military cloak, and spend a post-prandial hour. But oftener than not
when these occasions occurred, he would be quite busy at home, dusting
a little china, and rearranging ornaments on his shelves, and, after
putting his rings and handkerchief in the candle-bracket of the piano,
spending a serious hour (with the soft pedal down, for fear of
irritating Robert) in reading his share of such duets as he would be
likely to be called upon to play with Lucia during the next day or two.
Though he read music much better than she did, he used to "go over" the
part alone first, and let it be understood that he had not seen it
before. But then he was sure that she had done precisely the same, so
they started fair. Such things whiled away very pleasantly the hours
till eleven, when he went to bed, and it was seldom that he had to set
out Patience-cards to tide him over the slow minutes.
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