She guessed, too, on Davenant's part, that feeling of
irritation which the calm assumptions of the Old World are likely to
create when in contact with the aggressive unpretentiousness of the New,
and if need were she was ready to stand by him. All she could say,
however, for the moment was:
"Won't you sit down? Perhaps I ought to ring for tea."
She made the latter remark from habit. It was what she was accustomed to
think of when on an autumn day the sun went behind the distant rim of
Brookline hills and dusk began to gather in the oval room, as it was
gathering now. If she did not ring, it was because of her sense of the
irony of offering hospitality in a house where not even a cup of tea was
paid for.
She seated herself beside the round table in the chair she had occupied
a half-hour earlier, facing inward to the room instead of outward to the
portico. Ashley backed to the curving wall of the room, while Davenant
scarcely advanced beyond the doorway. In his slow, careful approach the
latter reminded her somewhat of a big St. Bernard dog responding to the
summons of a leopard.
"Been up to see--?" Ashley nodded in the direction of what he took to be
Guion's room.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311