London (England) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Upper class -- Fiction
“The tea will be grateful, I admit,” returned Robert, doing her bidding,
“but your society no less. In fact, I want to speak to you.”
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Clarendon refuses my invitation--that I mentioned in my letter,
you remember.”
“Refuses? What is her objection?”
“Nothing definite. She says she cannot leave England, that’s all. Has
she--I don’t think there’s any harm in asking you, is there?--has she
spoken with you at all of what she is going to do?”
“Well, no. In fact, it’s a subject she won’t approach. I don’t think she
has formed any plans whatever yet.”
Asquith reflected, and at the same time tea was brought in and lamps
lit.
“I half supposed,” said Mrs. Stratton, glancing aside at him, as she
held up the teapot, “that you were the most likely person to know of her
plans.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Stratton, that was a mistake, an entire mistake.”
The lady raised her eyebrows a little and carefully removed a tea-leaf
from her cup.
“You take it for granted,” she asked, after a moment, “that she will
really quit Knights-well?”
“How otherwise? I am perfectly sure that nothing would induce her to
continue living there under the new _régime_. If the persons concerned
had been--had been other than they of course the affair might have been
very simple. But not as it is.”
“By-the-bye,” he added, “she gave me one piece of information. She does
not intend to live in London.”
“Where then, I wonder?”
“I can’t conjecture.”
“I would repeat the invitation, I think,” said Mrs. Stratton, looking at
him.
“I shall do so, though not just yet.”
The colonel and Mr. Lyster came in talking loudly. .
“Ah, we left you asleep,” said the former to Robert. “Didn’t like to
disturb you. We’ve had a walk.”
“A walk, in this weather!” exclaimed his wife.
“Oh yes; a little rain does one no harm. Not a bad afternoon; there’s
a pleasant warmth in the air. Don’t you notice a warmth in the air,
Asquith?”
“Yes, here in the drawing-room. I can’t answer for outside.”
“Oh, it’s distinctly warm. Eh, Lyster?”
Mrs. Clarendon appeared in the room. The colonel lost his ease, and
began to walk about. The conversation became general.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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