Craig arrived at the Severences at half-past four, when no one was
expected until five. "Margaret is dressing," explained Mrs.
Severence, as she entered the drawing-room. "She'll be down
presently--if you care to wait." This, partly because she hoped he
would go, chiefly because he seemed in such a hurry.
"I'll wait a few minutes," said Craig in his sharp, irritating
voice.
And he began to tour the room, glancing at pictures, at articles
on the tables, mussing the lighter pieces of furniture about. Mrs.
Severence, pink-and-white, middle-aged, fattish and obviously
futile, watched him with increasing nervousness. He would surely
break something; or, being by a window when the impulse to depart
seized him, would leap through, taking sash, curtains and all with
him.
"Perhaps we'd better go outdoors," suggested she. She felt very
helpless, as usual. It was from her that Lucia inherited her
laziness and her taste for that most indolent of all the
dissipations, the reading of love stories.
"Outdoors?" exploded Craig, wheeling on her, as if he had
previously been unconscious of her presence. "No. We'll sit here.
I want to talk to you."
And he plumped himself into a chair near by, his claw-like hands
upon his knees, his keen eyes and beak-like nose bent toward her.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120