The accent with which he spoke my name set my pulses striking like a clock. I got up mechanically, as Ben directed.
"They are going to supper. There's game. Des. Munster told me to take the northeast corner of the table."
"I shall take the southwest, then," he replied, nodding to a tall gentleman who passed with Adelaide. When we left him, he was observing a carved oak chair, in occult sympathy probably with the grain of the wood. Nature strikes us with her phenomena at times when other resources are not at hand.
We were compelled to wait at the door of the supper-room, the jam was so great.
"What fairy story do you like best?" asked Ben
"I know which you like."
"Well?"
"Bluebeard. You have an affinity with Sister Ann in the tower."
"Do you think I see nothing 'but the sun which makes a dust and the grass which looks green?' I believe you like Bluebeard, too."
That was a great joke, at which we both laughed.