Boult, a strict Sabbatarian, was more than a little
shocked to observe that breach of decorum. The fact that the back-garden
was not overlooked, set his mind at rest, however. "We've got to be
careful about such things. Customers are often particular," he said.
The patronage of the visitor who insisted on being taken over the small
domain was trying to the temper of its proprietor, uneasily conscious
already that the lawn was only half big enough for the croquet-hoops
ostentatiously set forth thereon; that the furniture in the dining-room
was much too big for it, and that in the drawing-room absolutely unsuited
to its purpose. He wished to forget these defects, which the other thought
it his duty conscientiously to point out.
"Very nice. Very nice. Very suitable indeed," was the verdict finally
pronounced. The Honourable Charles's soreness was not at all soothed
thereby. Since the abode, obviously in Mr. Boult's eyes, left so much to
be desired, it was no compliment to be told it was suitable. "A very nice
little cage, Gibbon. Where is the bird?"
"No hurry," Gibbon said, sullenly uncommunicative. Earnestly desiring his
departure he had strolled with his visitor to the gate. To have him on
Sunday as well as all the week was a little too much, he was saying to
himself, aloud saying nothing.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315