'But it must be quite a new house,' said Ross, as I didn't answer, 'as you don't like beetles, do you, duckie? We don't even mind if it isn't quite finished, because——' Here Ross's powers of invention mercifully failed him.
'Because,' said the agent, 'then you could choose your own decoration. I quite understand.'
I was pulp by this time, and as I was in imminent danger of exploding I retired to the window and made curious noises into my handkerchief, while the house agent looked through a number of small cards in a little box.
'You're in a draught, my pretty,' said Ross, 'come and sit near to hubby, while Mr Cardew Thompkins writes us the order to view.'
I came lest worse should befall me, and Ross tried to hold my hand but didn't succeed.
'There's a little old house out at Crosslanes,' began the agent—Ross nudged me violently.
'Also one at Stoke, which is slightly larger and older.'
'It's beginning to work,' whispered Ross.
'I will give you orders to view both of these.'
'Are they near the railway?'