"Oh, a stage entrance!" Marjorie answered. "I don't like stage
entrances;" and turning away she went up to her _fiancé_, making it
quite clear that, whatever her opinions about the conventions of the
boards might be, she did not like Mr. Charliewood.
The big, light-haired man stayed for a moment or two, made a few
conventional remarks, and then wished his host farewell.
As he crossed the hall he began mechanically to put on the heavy
astrachan coat upon his arm, then, with a muttered curse which surprised
the butler, he took it off again and hurriedly left the house.
"Well, and how are you, William?" said Lady Poole, sitting down by the
fire. "Are you going to give us some tea? We have been paying calls, and
I told Marjorie that we would just come on and see how you were, in case
you might be in. And how is the electricity going? Why don't you invent
a flying-machine? I'm sure it would be more useful than the things you
do invent. How charming it would be to step out of one's bedroom window
into one's aëriel brougham and tell the man to fly to the Savoy!"
Gouldesbrough did not immediately reply, but old Lady Poole was used to
this.
She was a tall, florid old thing, richly dressed, with an ample and
expansive manner. Now that Sir William had proposed and the forthcoming
marriage was an accepted thing, the good lady felt her duty was done.
Having satisfied herself of Sir William's position, his banking account
and his general eligibility, she cared for nothing else, and she had
grown quite accustomed to the little snubs she received from his hands
from time to time.
Gouldesbrough was looking at Marjorie. His deep blue eyes had leapt up
from their usual intense calm into flame. The thin-cut lips were
slightly parted, the whole man had become humanized and real in a single
moment.
The sinister suggestion had dropped from him as a cloak is thrown off,
and he remembered nothing of the plot he had been hatching, but only saw
before him the radiant girl he adored with all the force of his nature
and all the passion of a dark but powerful soul, to which love had never
come before.
"How are you, dearest?" he said anxiously. "Do you know that I haven't
heard from you or seen you for nearly four days? Tell me all that you
have been doing, all that you have been thinking."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account