"
Deleah could not have felt flattered that this was so, but she told him
she was glad to know that he was so happy.
"Not happy," he said, "but looking forward to happiness; working for it."
With that he went on again, stopping at the hall-door. "I think I've
remembered your taste," he said as he threw the door open. "I've carried
it out everywhere as far as it was possible."
At that Deleah drew back. "I will look over your house some other time,"
she said. "It is late. I must be getting home now."
"Do you call the Forcus's place your home?"
"For the present. I am leaving there soon."
"The sooner the better. Come in."
He put a heavy and peremptory hand upon her arm and drew her over the
threshold, across the tiny passage called the hall, into one of the two
bow-windowed rooms.
"This is the dining-room," he said. "Sit down."
To free her arm from his hand she obeyed him, and with an effort to appear
very much at her ease looked about her.
"What a sweet little room!" she said.
"You like it? I thought you would. Look at the picture over the
sideboard."
It was a large print--much too large for the room--of "The Last Sleep of
Argyle," and was faced on the opposite wall by a reproduction of "The
Execution of Montrose.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329