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Page 87
"Oh, but she's sure--" began Lotty.
"The daughter of the Droitwiches, Briggs," said Mr. Wilkins, "is
not likely to be wanting in the proper hospitable impulses."
"The daughter of the--" repeated Briggs; but he stopped dead, for
there in the doorway was the daughter of the Droitwiches herself; or
rather, coming towards him out of the dark doorway into the brightness
of the sunset, was that which he had not in his life yet seen but only
dreamed of, his ideal of absolute liveliness.
Chapter 19
And then when she spoke . . . what chance was there for poor
Briggs? He was undone. All Scrap said was, "How do you do," on Mr.
Wilkins presenting him, but it was enough; it undid Briggs.
From a cheerful, chatty, happy young man, overflowing with life
and friendliness, he became silent, solemn, and with little beads on
his temples. Also he became clumsy, dropping the teaspoon as he handed
her her cup, mismanaging the macaroons, so that one rolled on the
ground. His eyes could not keep off the enchanting face for a moment;
and when Mr. Wilkins, elucidating him, for he failed to elucidate
himself, informed Lady Caroline that in Mr. Briggs she beheld the owner
of San Salvatore, who was on his way to Rome, but had got out at
Mezzago, etc. etc., and that the other three ladies had invited him to
spend the night in what was to all intents and purposes his own house
rather than an hotel, and Mr. Briggs was only waiting for the seal of
her approval to this invitation, she being the fourth hostess--when Mr.
Wilkins, balancing his sentences and being admirably clear and enjoying
the sound of his own cultured voice, explained the position in this
manner to Lady Caroline, Briggs sat and said never a word.
A deep melancholy invaded Scrap. The symptoms of the incipient
grabber were all there and only too familiar, and she knew that if
Briggs stayed her rest-cure might be regarded as over.
Then Kate Lumley occurred to her. She caught at Kate as at a
straw.
"It would have been delightful," she said, faintly smiling at
Briggs--she could not in decency not smile, at least a little, but even
a little betrayed the dimple, and Briggs's eyes became more fixed than
ever--"I'm only wondering if there is room."
"Yes, there is," said Lotty. "There's Kate Lumley's room."
"I thought," said Scrap to Mrs. Fisher, and it seemed to Briggs
that he had never heard music till now, "your friend was expected
immediately."
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Fisher--with an odd placidness, Scrap
thought.
"Miss Lumley," said Mr. Wilkins, "--or should I," he inquired of
Mrs. Fisher, "say Mrs.?"
"Nobody has ever married Kate," said Mrs. Fisher complacently.
"Quite so. Miss Lumley does not arrive to-day in any case, Lady
Caroline, and Mr. Briggs has--unfortunately, if I may say so--to
continue his journey to-morrow, so that his staying would in no way
interfere with Miss Lumley's possible movements."
"Then of course I join in the invitation," said Scrap, with what
was to Briggs the most divine cordiality.
He stammered something, flushing scarlet, and Scrap thought,
"Oh," and turned her head away; but that merely made Briggs acquainted
with her profile, and if there existed anything more lovely than
Scrap's full face it was her profile.
Well, it was only for this one afternoon and evening. He would
leave, no doubt, the first thing in the morning. It took hours to get
to Rome. Awful if he hung on till the night train. She had a feeling
that the principal express to Rome passed through at night. Why hadn't
that woman Kate Lumley arrived yet? She had forgotten all about her,
but now she remembered she was to have been invited a fortnight ago.
What had become of her? This man, once let in, would come and see her
in London, would haunt the places she was likely to go to. He had the
makings, her experienced eye could see, of a passionately persistent
grabber.
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