author - "Marie Belloc Lowndes"
g ring.
He stepped past her heavily, and though she said nothing, he knew she grudged him his coming joy. Then, full of rage with her and contempt for himself, and giving himself the luxury of a mild, a very mild, oath--Ellen had very early made it clear she would have no swearing in her presence--he lit the hall gas full-flare.
"How can we hope to get lodgers if they can't even see the card?" he shouted angrily.
And there was truth in what he said, for now that he had lit the gas, the oblong card, though not the word "Apartments" printed on it, could be plainly seen out-lined against the old-fashioned fanlight above the front door.
Bunting went into the sitting-room, silently followed by his wife, and then, sitting down in his nice arm-chair, he poked the little banked-up fire. It was the first time Bunting had poked the fire for many a long day, and this exertion of marital authority made him feel better. A man has to assert himself sometimes, and he, Bunting, had not asserted hi
sh greycalled grisaille, formed the further side of the tiny apartment.
Madame Poulain, turning a key, revealed a large roomy space now fitted upas a cupboard. "It's a way through into our bedroom, monsieur," she saidsmiling. "We could not of course allow our daughter to be far fromourselves."
And Dampier nodded. He knew the ways of French people and sympathised withthose ways.
He stepped up into the cupboard, curious to see if this too had been apowdering closet, and if that were so if the old panelling andornamentation had remained in their original condition.
Thus for a moment was Dampier concealed from those in the room. And duringthat moment there came the sound of footsteps on the staircase, followed bythe sudden appearance on the landing outside the open door of the curiouslittle apartment of two tall figures--a girl in a lace opera cloak, and ayoung man in evening dress.
Nancy Dampier, gazing at them, a little surprised at the abrupt apparition,told herself that they must be
g ring.
He stepped past her heavily, and though she said nothing, he knew she grudged him his coming joy. Then, full of rage with her and contempt for himself, and giving himself the luxury of a mild, a very mild, oath--Ellen had very early made it clear she would have no swearing in her presence--he lit the hall gas full-flare.
"How can we hope to get lodgers if they can't even see the card?" he shouted angrily.
And there was truth in what he said, for now that he had lit the gas, the oblong card, though not the word "Apartments" printed on it, could be plainly seen out-lined against the old-fashioned fanlight above the front door.
Bunting went into the sitting-room, silently followed by his wife, and then, sitting down in his nice arm-chair, he poked the little banked-up fire. It was the first time Bunting had poked the fire for many a long day, and this exertion of marital authority made him feel better. A man has to assert himself sometimes, and he, Bunting, had not asserted hi
sh greycalled grisaille, formed the further side of the tiny apartment.
Madame Poulain, turning a key, revealed a large roomy space now fitted upas a cupboard. "It's a way through into our bedroom, monsieur," she saidsmiling. "We could not of course allow our daughter to be far fromourselves."
And Dampier nodded. He knew the ways of French people and sympathised withthose ways.
He stepped up into the cupboard, curious to see if this too had been apowdering closet, and if that were so if the old panelling andornamentation had remained in their original condition.
Thus for a moment was Dampier concealed from those in the room. And duringthat moment there came the sound of footsteps on the staircase, followed bythe sudden appearance on the landing outside the open door of the curiouslittle apartment of two tall figures--a girl in a lace opera cloak, and ayoung man in evening dress.
Nancy Dampier, gazing at them, a little surprised at the abrupt apparition,told herself that they must be