"Yes, I am here," he said abstractedly. "Yes, here I am."
And they walked into the cedar-wood parlour to lunch.
MRS. VERULAM'S IDEA OF AGAG.
That curious cerebral condition which we call excitement affects men and women in very different ways. At 3.15 on this Monday afternoon it caused a nervous restlessness in Mrs. Verulam, a hectic calm in Mr. Rodney, and an apoplectic irritability in Mr. Harrison. The first of these victims of the nervous system talked incessantly; the second said nothing at all; the third abused the powdered Frederick, had a "few words"—fifty thousand or thereabouts—with the cook of Ribton Marches, and fell foul of the second housemaid, with whom, in moments of condescension, he was rather apt than otherwise to keep company. And all these circumstances were brought about by Mr. James Bush, at that very moment driving from the Sunningdale station to the palace, with his very large feet up on the cushions of the carriage, and his very small bag of necessaries up on the box. However, he was kept awake by no warning instinct which told him of the turmoil cast before him by his personality, but, on the contrary, slept profoundly, and even snored, with his great head well back on the hood of the barouche. He was awakened by the stoppage of the carriage before the palace door. Inside, in the baronial hall, the crunching of the gravel was heard, and Mrs. Verulam had just said with elaborate indifference:
"Dear me! Can this be Mr. Bush already?"
Mr. Rodney had looked at his watch, and answered:
"I fancy so."
And Chloe had exclaimed: