“Madam,” babbled Somerset, “you promised me a month’s warning.”
“That was under a misapprehension,” returned the old lady. “I now give you warning to leave at once.”
“Madam,” said the young man, “I wish I could; and indeed, as far as I am concerned, it might be done. But then, my lodger!”
“Your lodger?” echoed Mrs. Luxmore.
“My lodger: why should I deny it?” returned Somerset. “He is only by the week.”
The old lady sat down upon a chair. “You have a lodger?—you?” she cried. “And pray, how did you get him?”
“By advertisement,” replied the young man. “O madam, I have not lived unobservantly. I adopted“—his eyes involuntarily shifted to the cartoons—“I adopted every method.”
Her eyes had followed his; for the first time in Somerset’s experience, she produced a double eyeglass; and as soon as the full merit of the works had flashed upon her, she gave way to peal after peal of her trilling and soprano laughter.
“Oh, I think you are perfectly delicious!” she cried. “I do hope you had them in the window. M’Pherson,” she continued, crying to her maid, who had been all this time grimly waiting in the hall, “I lunch with Mr. Somerset. Take the cellar key and bring some wine.”