But the Doctor was wrong. He did—in three!
OBSESSED
ANDREW FENN is known to the world as an art critic and essayist of unerring instinct and exquisite refinement, a writer of charming vers de société, and teller of tales supposedly designed for children, but in reality more appreciated by children of a larger growth. He is much sought after, but little to be found, unless one has the entrée to his pleasant, roomy old house in Church Street, Chelsea, where he lives in the midst of his library—the whole house is a library—his etchings and Japanese curios. He is less of a traveler than he used to be; getting old, he says, and lazy, content with old friends, soothed by old pipes, fortified by old wine—he has a supreme goût in wines—and nourished by excellent cookery.
His household staff consists but of an elderly valet and butler, and a housekeeper-cook. She has been in her master’s service twenty years, and is beginning to grow handsome, Andrew is wont to say. Certainly, if her master speaks the truth, she must have been, when comparatively young, extraordinarily unlovely, this most excellent of women. Even now she infallibly reminds the casual beholder of an antique ecclesiastical gargoyle much worn by weather. Her name is Ladds. She has never been married, but respect for the position of authority she occupies in Andrew’s household universally accords her brevet rank. She might have occupied another, and more important position, if——
“Yes,� Andrew says, when he is disposed to tell the story—and he often does tell it to intimate friends, leaning back on the library divan, after a cosy dinner, holding his gray beard in one big fist, still brown with tropical sunshine—“Ladds is an excellent creature. She might have married me, might Ladds!�
We invariably chorus astonishment. Then some of Ladds’ famous coffee comes in, and Andrew gets up to hunt for precious liquors, and, having found them, continues:
“I came very near marrying her—once.�
Somebody growls: “Good job you pulled up in time!�
Andrew rounds on the somebody. “I didn’t pull up. She did. Refused me!�
There is a general howl.