"Disgraceful. I wonder you women are not ashamed, the way you neglect
the child--I shall take him to Shoolbred's first thing to-morrow and
have him fitted out from top to toe----" The gathering storm receded
miraculously. "However, he can't appear like that. For God's sake,
get the house tidy, at any rate----"
So Robert had been bustled up stairs and the bailiff lured into the
kitchen, where fortunately he had become so drunk that he had had no
opportunity to explain to the French chef and the two waiters the real
reason for his presence and his whole-hearted participation in the
feast.
From the top of the stairs Robert had watched Christine go into dinner
on his father's arm, and Edith Stonehouse follow with a black-coated
stranger who had known his mother. He had listened to the talk and his
father's laughter--jovial and threatening--and once he had dived
downstairs and, peering through the banisters like a small blond
monkey, had snatched a cream meringue from a passing tray. Then for a
moment he had almost believed that they were all going to be happy
together.
That had been last night. Now there was nothing left but the bailiff,
still slightly befuddled, an incredible pile of unwashed dishes and an
atmosphere of stale tobacco. James Stonehouse had gone off early in a
black and awful temper. It seemed that at the last moment the
multi-millionaire had explained that owing to a hitch in his affairs he
was short of ready cash and would be glad of a small loan.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25