Dixon take her and the child to their rooms, declaring that she was
nearly dead and would sup upstairs and go to bed. She seemed to Tyson to
be a rather pretty woman, very small and dark, with a peevish, excitable
manner; and it was evident that her husband paid her little or no
attention.
"I can't altogether admire your taste in carpets, Tyson," said Melrose,
presently, with a patronizing smile, his eyes fastening on the
monstrosity in front of him.
The young man flushed.
"Your cheque, sir, was not a big one, and I had to make it go a long way.
It was no good trying the expensive shops."
"Oh, well!--I daresay Mrs. Melrose can put up with it. And what about
that sofa?" The speaker tried it--"Hm--not exactly Sybaritic--but very
fair, very fair! Mrs. Melrose will get used to it."
"Mrs. Melrose, sir, I fear, will find this place a bit lonesome, and out
of the way."
"Well, it is not exactly Piccadilly," laughed Melrose. "But a woman that
has her child is provided for. How can she be dull? I ask you"--he
repeated in a louder and rather hectoring voice--"how can she possibly be
dull?"
Tyson murmured something inaudible, adding to it--"And you, sir? Are you
a sportsman?"
Melrose threw up his hands contemptuously. "The usual British question!
What barbarians we are! It may no doubt seem to you extraordinary--but I
really never want to kill anything--except sometimes, perhaps,--a dealer.
My amusements"--he pointed to two large cases at the end of the
room--"are pursued indoors.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30