He took Benjulia’s arm, and led him upstairs.
When Lemuel returned to the hall, Mrs. Gallilee was ascending the house-steps. He bowed profoundly, in homage to the well-preserved remains of a fine woman. “My brother will be with you directly, ma’am. Pray allow me to give you a chair.”
His hat was in his hand. Mrs. Gallilee’s knowledge of the world easily set him down at his true value. She got rid of him with her best grace. “Pray don’t let me detain you, sir; I will wait with pleasure.”
If she had been twenty years younger the hint might have been thrown away. As it was, Lemuel retired.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
An unusually long day’s work at the office had fatigued good Mr. Mool. He pushed aside his papers, and let his weary eyes rest on a glass vase full of flowers on the table—a present from a grateful client. As a man, he enjoyed the lovely colours of the nosegay. As a botanist, he lamented the act which had cut the flowers from their parent stems, and doomed them to a premature death. “I should not have had the heart to do it myself,” he thought; “but tastes differ.”
The office boy came into the room, with a visiting card in his hand.
“I’m going home to dinner,” said Mr. Mool. “The person must call to-morrow.”
The boy laid the card on the table. The person was Mrs. Gallilee.