AT THE UNION HOTEL, PENZANCE
There was a quietude about the little front dining-room in Belitha Villas that was very soothing to the somewhat strained nervous systems of Mr. and Mrs. Povey. Each in their accustomed positions and chairs they gazed into the small fire that was burning brightly in the grate. Upon the table were the remains of lunch. Charlotte's expression was one of repose, but her husband's brows were contracted as he puffed at his pipe, which was not to be wondered at considering he was turning over in his mind how he was to acquaint Mrs. Povey with his intended departure.
"I am expecting, Charlotte," he began at last, his eyes fixed meditatively upon a hissing jet of gas that was escaping from the coal, "to be leaving the country shortly on business."
Mrs. Povey, who during the last three days had ceased to show or even feel surprise at anything her husband said, merely remarked, "Oh!" dully.
"Yes, my dear, and I want you to shut up the house—I have my reasons—and take rooms at Abbot's Hotel during my absence."
At this the lady became rather sarcastic.
"Or the Ritz, Edward, it seems to me that——"
Mr. Povey held up a silencing hand.
"I don't want to hear what it seems to you, my dear, I want you to go up to Abbot's and take a suite this afternoon. I intend to allow you—er—five pounds a week, Charlotte; I think that should be sufficient."
The surprise that the good lady would not allow herself to show had at least the effect of keeping her silent. Her husband rose and went out into the hall, returning immediately with his hat in his hand.