“Oh, nothing at all, probably; translated into brutal truth, the doctor said she ate too many sweets and nonsense and too little food. Run down.”
Maddison thought West’s manner rather callous, and wondered what Marian would feel if he ever came to speak so lightly of her. Was West already finding out the emptiness of his house of love?
Mrs. West greeted Maddison effusively, and Miss Lane did so quietly; a minute later they were rushing along Southward Ho!
“What brings you out of town, Maddison?” West asked.
“Work. I’ve got some work I want to do and don’t seem to settle down to it in town.”
“But is Brighton any better for work?” Mrs. West said, as she snuggled down into her corner and drew her furs closely round her. Maddison thought she looked all the prettier for her frailty.
“I’m not going to Brighton,” he answered; “I’ve got a cottage over at Rottingdean, two rooms and a kitchen. I’m going to settle down there for a bit.”
“How nice! We can run over in the motor, and you can begin my portrait right away. Will you?”
West laughed, hoping that the direct question would embarrass Maddison, who replied promptly:
“That will do splendidly, if you’re stopping long enough.”