“Well,” said Miss Thane, “I think this passes the bounds of reasonable effrontery! Do you suppose that he has come to pay us a ceremonious visit?”
Apparently this was his purpose, for in a few minutes Nye ushered him into the parlour. He came in with his usual smile, and bowed with all his usual flourish. “Such a happiness to find you still here!” he said. “Your very obedient, ma’am!”
“If you should be needing aught, ma’am, you have only to call,” said Nye, with slow deliberation.
“Oh yes, indeed! Pray do not wait!” said Miss Thane, slipping into her role of empty-headed femininity. “I will certainly call you if I need anything. How delightful it is to see you, Mr Lavenham! Here you find us yawning over our stitchery, quite enchanted to be receiving company. You must know that we have made all our plans for departure, and mean to set forward for London almost immediately. I am so glad to have the opportunity of taking leave of you! So very obliging you were in permitting me to visit your beautiful house! I am for ever talking of it!”
“My house was honoured, ma’am. Do I understand that your brother has at last recovered from his sad indisposition? It must have been an unconscionably bad cold to have kept him in this dull inn for so many days.”
“Yes, indeed, quite the worst he has ever had,” agreed Miss Thane. “But he has not found it dull, I assure you.”
“No?” said the Beau gently.
“Indeed, no! You must understand that he is a great judge of wine. A well-stocked cellar will reconcile him to the hardest lot. It is quite absurd!”
“Ah, yes!” said the Beau. “Nye has a great deal in his cellars, I apprehend—more perhaps than he will admit.”
“That is true,” remarked Eustacie, with considerable relish. “Grandpère was used to say that he would defy anyone to find what Nye preferred to keep hidden.”