She was full of apologies
for deserting him. "If he had only given them warning. Not but that
she was delighted; and even now, if the Major would make use of her
ticket . . . And to leave him alone in the house--for the 'maid'
lived two streets away, and slept at home--it sounded so
inhospitable, did it not? But she hoped the Major would find his
room comfortable; there was a table for writing; and supper would be
laid in the parlour, if he should feel tired after his journey and
wish to retire to bed before their return. Would he be good enough
to forbear standing upon ceremony, and remember the case-bottles in
the cellaret on the right-hand of the sideboard? Also, by the way,
he must take temporary possession of the duplicate latchkey; and
then," added Mrs. Basket, "we shall feel you are quite one of _us_."
The Major, on his part, could only trust that his unexpected visit
would not be allowed to mar for one moment Mrs. Basket's enjoyment of
_Love Between Decks_. On that condition only could he feel that he
had not unwarrantably intruded; on those terms only that he was being
treated in sincerity as an old friend. "I am an old campaigner,
madam. Permit me, using an old friend's liberty, to congratulate you
on the flavour of this boiled mutton."
In short, the Major showed himself the most complaisant of guests.
At dessert, observing that Mr. Basket's eye began to wander towards
the clock on the mantelpiece, he leapt up, protesting that he should
never forgive himself if, through him, his friends missed a single
line of _Love Between Decks_.
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