“I’ve known a lot,” said he. “They’re just like everybody else, except when they think they are not—and then they are beastly tedious.”
The door was opened by the grim old lady who was mother to Netherby Gomme. Her, Noll saluted cheerily. The old lady shook hands with him and darted a jealous look at the girl.
Noll explained:
“I have brought a friend of mine,” said he—“Miss Betty Modeyne.” The old lady bowed stiffly to the child.
Noll took off his hat:
“I suppose Netherby is in?” he said, calmly walking into the passage; and the child followed him.
The old lady shut the outer door:
“Yes,” she said—“he’s about finished work by this, I think.”
“Don’t you trouble to come up, Mrs. Gomme,” said Noll airily, opening the sitting-room door with elaborate formality for the old lady; “I know the way up, don’t I?”
She smiled. The light suddenly snapped out of her shrewd eyes again—she glanced sharply at the girl: