The carriage stopped at the stately portico of Erpingham House. Godolphin felt a little humiliated at being indebted to another—to a woman, for so splendid a tenement; but Constance, not penetrating into this sentiment, hastened up the broad stairs, and said, pointing to a door that led to her boudoir,
"In that room cabinets have been formed and shaken."
Godolphin laughed; he was alive only to the vanity of the boast, because he shared not the enthusiasm; this was Constance's weak point: her dark eye flashed fire.
There's nothing bores a man more than the sort of uneasy quiet that follows a day's journey. Godolphin took his hat, and yawningly stretching himself, nodded to Constance, and moved to the door; they were in her dressing-room at the time.
"Why, what, Percy, you cannot be going out now?"
"Indeed I am, my love."
"Where, in Heaven's name?"
"To White's, to learn the news of the Opera, and the strength of the
Ballet."
"I had just rung for lights to show you the house!" said Constance, disappointed, and half-reproachfully.
"Mercy, Constance! damp rooms and east winds together are too much. House, indeed! what can there be worth seeing in your English drawing-rooms after the marble palaces of Italy? Any commands?"