“Where’s Marshall?” asked Gerald at the first opportunity, on the maid leaving the room.
“Marshall could not stand it,” said his aunt. “He can’t exist without London, and doing the honours of a studio.”
“Left you!”
“Most politely he informed me that this place does not agree with his health; and there did not seem sufficient scope for his services since the Reverend Underwood had become so much more independent. So we were thankful to dispose of him to Lord de Vigny.”
“He was a great plague,” interpolated Adrian, “always jawing about the hall-door.”
“Are you really without a man-servant?” demanded Gerald.
“In the house. Lomax comes up from the stables to take some of the work. Some lemonade, Gerald?”
Gerald gazed round in search of unutterable requirements; but only met imploring eyes from aunt and sister, and restraining ones from his uncle. He subsided and submitted to the lemonade, while Anna diverted attention by recurring rather nervously to the former subject.
“And I have got rid of Porter, she kept me in far too good order.”
“As if Sibby did not,” said Clement.