I come to see the house--and the
dog." He looked round the gallery in his gravely attentive way. "I don't
understand pictures," he remarked resignedly. "I shall go back to the
drawing-room."
After a moment's consideration, Felix followed him into the
drawing-room, with the air of a man who was determined not to be
repelled.
"Well?" asked Hardyman. "What is it?"
"About that matter?" Felix said, inquiringly.
"What matter?"
"Oh, you know. Will next week do?"
"Next week _won't_ do."
Mr. Felix Sweetsir cast one look at his friend. His friend was too
intently occupied with the decorations of the drawing-room to notice the
look.
"Will to-morrow do?" Felix resumed, after an interval.
"Yes."
"At what time?"
"Between twelve and one in the afternoon."
"Between twelve and one in the afternoon," Felix repeated. He looked
again at Hardyman and took his hat. "Make my apologies to my aunt," he
said. "You must introduce yourself to her Ladyship. I can't wait here
any longer." He walked out of the room, having deliberately returned the
contemptuous indifference of Hardyman by a similar indifference on his
own side, at parting.
Left by himself, Hardyman took a chair and glanced at the door which led
into the boudoir. The steward had knocked at that door, had disappeared
through it, and had not appeared again. How much longer was Lady
Lydiard's visitor to be left unnoticed in Lady Lydiard's house?
As the question passed through his mind the boudoir door opened.
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