In deference to that wish, however, Arthur went to the smoking-room for the desired cigars—a room that was used as a store and in which no one ever sat. There was more or less realisable wealth there, he reflected, as he opened a box of his uncle's cigars.
Why, these cigars must have cost over five pounds a hundred before the war.
He was crossing the hall on his return to the garden, when the drawing-room door opened and Miss Kenyon came out. Arthur had a feeling that she had deliberately tried to catch him. He had always disliked and rather feared her. She was different from the other Kenyons, more decided and more efficient. He had not modified his original opinion of her as a hard woman.
"Going out?" she asked coldly.
"Yes; it's jolly in the garden," Arthur said.
"Is my brother out there?" she continued.
Arthur hesitated on the edge of an implied untruth, but she gave him no opportunity to prevaricate, adding almost immediately,—
"I wish you would tell him I want to speak to him."
"I will, if I can find him," Arthur said.
"Oh! You'll know where to find him," Miss Kenyon replied, and re-entered the drawing-room.