"Now that you've seen the presents," she said, in what he knew she thought to be a haughty tone, "I think I must get back to my friends."
He grinned. "Righto! Sorry to have detained you. But I haven't quite finished my talk with Mrs. Walbridge. I'm sure she won't mind giving me a few tips about her next book. Our people love that kind of thing—eat it."
He cast his eye about the pleasant sunny room, and then, as he reached the door, stopped.
"I suppose this is your room?" he asked, with bland disregard of her manner.
"What do you mean?"
"Well—different kinds of pictures, you know; brown wallpaper, and that's a good Kakemono. Hanabosa Iccho, isn't it?"
Miss Walbridge's face expressed surprise too acute to be altogether courteous.
"I—I don't know," she said. "I know it's a very good one. Mother bought it for Paul—that's my brother—he's very fond of such things—for his birthday and at Christmas—his room is being painted, so some of his things are in here."
The young man looked admiringly at the grey and white study of monkeys and leaves.