"Mr. Marrier—my wife. Nellie, this is Mr. Marrier."
Mr. Marrier was profuse: no other word would describe his demeanour. [250] Nellie had the timidity of a young girl. Indeed she looked quite youthful, despite the ageing influences of black silk.
"So that's your Mr. Marrier! I understood from you he was a clerk!" said Nellie, tartly, suddenly retransformed into the shrewd matron, as soon as Mr. Marrier had profusely gone. She had conceived Marrier as a sort of Penkethman! Edward Henry had hoped to avoid this interview.
He shrugged his shoulders in answer to his wife's remark.
"Well," he said, "where are the kids?"
"Waiting in the lounge with nurse, as you said to be." Her mien delicately informed him that while in London his caprices would be her law, which she would obey without seeking to comprehend.
"Well," he went on, "I expect they'd like the parks as well as anything. Suppose we take 'em and show 'em one of the parks? Shall we? Besides, they must have fresh air."
"All right," Nellie agreed. "But how far will it be?"
"Oh!" said Edward Henry, "we'll crowd into a taxi."
They crowded into a taxi, and the children found their father in high spirits. Maisie mentioned the doll.... In a minute the taxi had stopped in front of a toy-shop surpassing dreams, and they invaded the toy-shop like an army. When they emerged, after a considerable interval, nurse was carrying an enormous doll, and Nellie was carrying Maisie, and Ralph was lovingly stroking the doll's real shoes. Robert kept a profound silence—a silence which had begun in the train.