“Why!” she exclaimed, crossly. “What have you come today for?”
“I got off a day earlier,” said Hadrian, and his man’s voice so deep and unexpected was like a blow to Cousin Emmie.
“Well, you’ve caught us in the midst of it,” she said, with resentment. Then all three went into the middle room.
Mr. Rockley was dressed—that is, he had on his trousers and socks—but he was resting on the bed, propped up just under the window, from whence he could see his beloved and resplendent garden, where tulips and apple-trees were ablaze. He did not look as ill as he was, for the water puffed him up, and his face kept its colour. His stomach was much swollen. He glanced round swiftly, turning his eyes without turning his head. He was the wreck of a handsome, well-built man.
Seeing Hadrian, a queer, unwilling smile went over his face. The young man greeted him sheepishly.
“You wouldn’t make a life-guardsman,” he said. “Do you want something to eat?”
Hadrian looked round—as if for the meal.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“What shall you have—egg and bacon?” asked Emmie shortly.
“Yes, I don’t mind,” said Hadrian.