However, he can't hear, so that
doesn't matter. My blessing be on the man who invented telephones,
which hitherto I have always thought an awful nuisance. Are you feeling
cheerful, Alan?"
"Very much the reverse," he answered; "never was more gloomy in my life,
not even when I thought I had to die within six hours of blackwater
fever. Also I have lots that I want to talk to you about and I can't do
it at the end of this confounded wire that your uncle may be tapping."
"I thought it might be so," answered Barbara, "so I just rang you up to
wish you good-morning and to say that I am coming over in the motor to
lunch with my maid Snell as chaperone. All right, don't remonstrate, I
_am coming_ over to lunch--I can't hear you--never mind what people
will say. I am coming over to lunch at one o'clock, mind you are in.
Good-bye, I don't want much to eat, but have something for Snell and the
chauffeur. Good-bye."
Then the wire went dead, nor could all Alan's "Hello's" and "Are you
there's?" extract another syllable.
Having ordered the best luncheon that his old housekeeper could provide
Alan went off for his walk in much better spirits, which were further
improved by his success in persuading the tenant to do without the new
buildings for another year.
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