"Listen to Carlotta. She says closing time," he said, in his old musical voice, but with the sardonic ring of war in it now.
Carlotta stood with her arms dangling, looking like a penitent schoolgirl.
"The Colonel has gone to bed. He hasn't been able to manage a reconciliation with Lucy," she said. "My mother-in-law thinks we ought to let him try to sleep."
Carlotta's slow eyes rested on mine, questioning, penitent—or so I imagined—and somewhat sphinx-like.
"Why, of course," said Lord Lathkill. "I wish him all the sleep in the world."
Mrs. Hale said never a word.
"Is Mother retiring too?" asked Luke.
"I think so."
"Ah! then supposing we go up and look at the supper-tray."
We found Lady Lathkill mixing herself some night-cap brew over a spirit-lamp: something milky and excessively harmless. She stood at the sideboard stirring her potations, and hardly noticed us. When she had finished she sat down with her steaming cup.