Part 29 (1/2)
”What a question from you to me!” says he reproachfully.
”'Call, and I follow; I follow, _though_ I die!'”
”You're too silly for anything,” returns she most ungratefully, turning her back upon him.
”'Twas ever thus,'” says Mr. Gower, who seems to be in a poetical mood. ”Yet what have I done?”
”Oh, nothing--nothing!” cries t.i.ta petulantly. ”It is only the day!
Surely it would depress anyone!”
Her eyes wandered down the room, and are now fixed upon the curtains that hide the window where Mrs. Bethune and her husband are conversing.
”Anyone but _me!”_ says Mr. Gower, with an exalted air. ”I was up early this morning to----”
”Up early! I like that! When _were_ you up?” asks Mrs. Chichester, between whom and Randal there is always a living feud. ”Why, you can't get up even on Sundays, I hear, to be in time for service!”
”What it is to be clever!” says Mr. Gower, looking at her with enthusiastic admiration. ”One hears _so much”_--pause--”that isn't true!”
”That's a mere put off,” says she. ”When were you up this morning?
Come now--honour bright!”
”At shriek of day,” says Gower with dignity. ”Were _you_ ever up at that time?”
”Never!” says Mrs. Chichester, laughing.
She has evidently that best of all things--a sense of humour; she gives in.
”Well, I was. I wish I hadn't been,” says Mr. Gower. ”When I opened my window the rain beat upon me so hard that I felt it was a sort of second edition kind of thing when I took my bath later on.”
”I'm so sorry the weather is turning out so horrid,” says t.i.ta.
”I don't see why you should ever be sorry about anything,” says Tom Hescott, in his slow, musical voice.
”Don't you?” She turns to him in a little quick way--a way that brings her back to that hateful window down below there. ”You are right,” she laughs gaily. It seems as if she had really cast that window and its occupants behind her for ever. ”Well, I _won't_ be.
By-the-by, I told you all that we are to go to a dance at Lady Warbeck's on Thursday week? Thursday!--yes. Thursday week.”
”I remember! How delightful!” cries Mrs. Chichester.
”Lady Warbeck! I know her,” says Gower; ”she has a son!”
”Yes--a son.”
”Oh, _do_ go on! Lady Rylton, do tell us about him,” says Mrs.
Chichester, who is ever in search of fresh fields and pastures new.
CHAPTER XVII.