Parker, a little flushed, but resolutely flattening everything to the quality of the commonplace, emerged upon him suddenly. Miss Waters could see Mr. Chatteris for a few minutes. She was emphatic with the “Miss Waters,” the more emphatic for all the insurgent stress of the goddess, protestingly emphatic. And Chatteris went up, white and resolved, to that smiling expectant presence. No one witnessed their meeting but Parker—assuredly Parker could not resist seeing that, but Parker is silent—Parker preserves a silence that rubies could not break.
All I know, is this much from the porter:
“When I said she was up there and would see him,” he says, “the way he rooshed up was outrageous. This is a Private Family Hotel. Of course one sees things at times even here, but——
“I couldn’t find the manager to tell ’im,” said the hall-porter. “And what was I authorised to do?
“For a bit they talked with the door open, and then it was shut. That maid of hers did it—I lay.”
“Couldn’t ketch a word,” said the hall-porter. “Dropped to whispers—instanter.”
II
And afterwards—
It was within ten minutes of one that Parker, conferring an amount of decorum on the request beyond the power of any other living being, descended to demand—of all conceivable things—the bath chair!