CHAPTER XI
If anything is anybody’s very own, it is surely his past, or hers––particularly hers. But Nicky Easton was bringing one of the most wretched chapters of Marie Louise’s past to her very door. She did not want to reopen it, especially not before her new-found family. One likes to have a few illusions left for these reunions. So she said:
“Abbie darling, would you forgive me if I saw this––person alone? Besides, you’ll be wanting to get settled in your room, if Mr.––Ja––your husband doesn’t mind taking your things up.”
Abbie had not been used to taking dismissals graciously. She had never been to court and been permitted to retire. Besides, people who know how to take an eviction gracefully usually know enough to get out before they are put out. But Abbie had to be pushed, and she went, heartbroken, disgraced, resentful. Jake sulked after her. They moved like a couple of old flea-bitten mongrels spoken to sharply.
And of course they stole back to the head of the stairs and listened.
Nicky had his face made up for a butler, or at least a maid. When he saw Marie Louise he had to undo his features, change his opening oration, and begin all over again.
“It is zhoo yourself, then,” he said.
“Yes. Come in, do. I have no servants yet.”