"
"All right; I'll get out. Evening clothes."
And Meller, taking out dress suit and shirt, thought: 'Now, what does
the old bloomer want dressin' up again for; why can't he go to bed and
have his dinner there? When a man's like a baby, the cradle's the place
for him.'....
An hour later, at the scene of his encounter with Mr. Ventnor, where
the table was already laid for dinner, old Heythorp stood and gazed. The
curtains had been drawn back, the window thrown open to air the room,
and he could see out there the shapes of the dark trees and a sky
grape-coloured, in the mild, moist night. It smelt good. A sensuous
feeling stirred in him, warm from his bath, clothed from head to foot in
fresh garments. Deuce of a time since he had dined in full fig! He
would have liked a woman dining opposite--but not the holy woman; no,
by George!--would have liked to see light falling on a woman's shoulders
once again, and a pair of bright eyes! He crossed, snail-like, towards
the fire. There that bullying fellow had stood with his back to
it--confound his impudence!--as if the place belonged to him. And
suddenly he had a vision of his three secretaries' faces--especially
young Farney's as they would look, when the pack got him by the throat
and pulled him down.
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