"Yes, it's rather jolly," said Leonard, staring moodily at his wife, in the act of singing a refrain, of Bé-bé-bé, which was supposed to represent the bleating of an innocent lamb.
"And the Baron's voice goes so admirably with Mrs. Tregonell's."
"Yes, his voice goes—admirably," said Leonard, sorely tempted to blaspheme.
"Weren't you charmed to find us all so gay and bright here—nothing to suggest the sad break-up you had last year. I felt so intensely sorry for you all—yet I was selfish enough to be glad I had left before it happened. Did they—don't think me morbid for asking—did they bring him home here?"
"Yes, they brought him home."
"And in which room did they put him? One always wants to know these things, though it can do one no good."
"In the Blue Room."
"The second from the end of the corridor, next but one to mine; that's rather awfully near. Do you believe in spiritual influences? Have you ever had a revelation? Good gracious! is it really so late? Everybody seems to be going."
"Let me get your candle," said Leonard, eagerly, making a dash for the hall. And so ended his first evening at home with that imbecile refrain—Bé-bé-bé, repeating itself in his ears.