Labrador (N.L.) -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Love stories, English
She drank tea, and pulled herself together for a lively description of
the wheel-locking and the subsequent conversation, a bright ridiculous
account which made the affair happen by implication on the high road and
not in a byeway, and was adorned with every facetious ornament that
seemed likely to get a laugh from the children. But she talked rather
fast, and she felt she forced the fun a little. However, it amused the
children all right, and Theodore created a diversion by choking with his
tea. From first to last Marjorie was extremely careful to avoid the
affectionate scrutiny of her mother's eye. And had this lasted the
_whole_ afternoon? asked Mrs. Pope. "Oh, they'd talked for
half-an-hour," said Marjorie, or more, and had driven back very slowly
together. "He did all the talking. You saw what he was yesterday. And
the donkeys seemed too happy together to tear them away."
"But what was it all about?" asked Daffy curious.
"He asked after you, Daffy, most affectionately," said Marjorie, and
added, "several times." (Though Trafford had as a matter of fact
displayed a quite remarkable disregard of all her family.)
"And," she went on, getting a plausible idea at last, "he explained all
about aeroplanes. And all that sort of thing. Has Daddy gone to Wamping
for some more cricket?..."
(But none of this was lost on Mrs. Pope.)
§ 8
Mr. Magnet's return next day was heralded by nearly two-thirds of a
column in the _Times_.
The Lecture on the Characteristics of Humour had evidently been quite a
serious affair, and a very imposing list of humorists and of prominent
people associated with their industry had accepted the hospitality of
the _Literati_.
Marjorie ran her eyes over the Chairman's flattering introduction, then
with a queer faint flavour of hostility she reached her destined
husband's utterance. She seemed to hear the flat full tones of his voice
as she read, and automatically the desiccated sentences of the reporter
filled out again into those rich quietly deliberate unfoldings of sound
that were already too familiar to her ear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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