"But why didn't you write sooner to let me know you were coming?" was his first exclamation.
"I supposed you knew from Cecily."
"I haven't heard from her since the letter in which she told me she had got to Rome. She said you would be coming soon, but that was all. I don't understand this economy of postage!"
He grew more annoyed as he spoke. Meeting Miriam's eye, he added, in the tone of explanation:
"It's abominable that you should come here all the way from Chelsea, and be turned away at the door! What did the servant tell you?"
"Only that your comings and goings were very uncertain," she replied, looking about the room.
"Yes, so they are. I go now and then to a friend's in Surrey and stop overnight. One can't live alone for an indefinite time. But sit down. Unless you'd like to have a look at the house, first of all?"
"I'll sit a little first."
"This is my study, when I'm working at home," Reuben continued, walking about and handling objects, a book, or a pen, or a paper-knife. "Comfortable, don't you think? I want to have another bookcase over there. I haven't worked here much since Cecily has been away; I have a great deal of reading to do at the Museum, you know.—You look a vast deal better, Miriam. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Most likely I shall continue to live with the Spences."