"
There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's
rose in reply:
"Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so
thoughtful, Alfred dear."
The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome
white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of
features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her,
a suggestion of deference in his manner.
Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion.
"Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings,
after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my
husband."
I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly
struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting
to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever
seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious
impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural
on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His
voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in
mine and said:
"This is a pleasure, Mr.
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