If her hair were not dry--how awful! Suddenly
he heard floating down a clear but smothered "Oh! Gefoozleme!" and other
words which he could not catch. The little maid came running down.
"Miss Phyllis says, sir, she'll be with you in a jiffy. And I was to
tell you that Master Jock is loose, sir."
Bob Pillin answered "Tha-anks," and passed into the drawing-room.
He went to the bureau, took an envelope, enclosed the cheque, and
addressing it: "Mrs. Larne," replaced it in his pocket. Then he crossed
over to the mirror. Never till this last month had he really doubted his
own face; but now he wanted for it things he had never wanted. It had
too much flesh and colour. It did not reflect his passion. This was a
handicap. With a narrow white piping round his waistcoat opening, and a
buttonhole of tuberoses, he had tried to repair its deficiencies. But
do what he would, he was never easy about himself nowadays, never up
to that pitch which could make him confident in her presence. And until
this month to lack confidence had never been his wont. A clear, high,
mocking voice said:
"Oh-h! Conceited young man!"
And spinning round he saw Phyllis in the doorway.
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