Part 20 (2/2)
They were at the very top of the house. The staircase window was wide open, and the sweet smell of wet earth came in. She had put the latch-key in the door and opened it--she had turned on the electric light. Now, as she held out her hand to him in farewell, he caught sight of the pleasant little room beyond. He had the strongest wish to cross the threshold on which she was standing; but, of course, it was impossible.
”When my cousin comes back from abroad,” he said, ”I want you to know each other, Miss Gray. Perhaps you will ask us to tea here.”
”I shall be delighted,” she said frankly.
”You like your quarters?”
He was oddly reluctant to go.
”Very much indeed.”
”You are near Heaven.”
”I hear the singing at the Carmelites. I can see the tops of the trees in Kensington Gardens. To be sure, I ought to live nearer my work. But these things counterbalance the distance. By the way, do you know that Mrs. Morres is in town?”
”I had not heard.”
”She has come up for a week's shopping.”
”Ah! I must call on her. I like her douches of cold water on all our schemes.”
”So do I.”
He looked at her with a dawning intention in his eyes. Before he could speak the words that were on his lips the opposite door opened, and a young woman, wearing an artist's blouse, with close-cropped dark hair and a frank boyish face, came out.
”I beg your pardon, Miss Gray, do you happen to have any methylated spirit?”
”Good-night, Miss Gray.”
He lifted his hat and went down the stairs. On the next landing he paused and listened with a smile to the conversation overhead. It appeared that Mary had only enough methylated spirit for a single occasion.
”Then you must come to breakfast with me in the morning,” said the other girl. ”Can you oblige me with a few slices of bacon?”
It was the true communistic life.
He was smiling to himself still as he walked up the hill homewards.
”Winter is over and past, and the spring is come,” he murmured to himself. And to think that a few hours ago the fog was creeping over the City!
CHAPTER XVIII
HALCYON WEATHER
Mrs. Morres was looking benignantly, for her, at Sir Robin Drummond.
”Well, I must say I'm pleased to see you,” she said. ”It's very handsome of you, too, to give up the affairs of the nation for an old woman like me. How do you suppose things are getting on without you?”
<script>