“Well,” said her husband, with a wink at me, “I thought it was to be continued in our next,” and he nodded towards the door that opened from his wife's bower into the room adjoining.
“Why, you poor old fellow!” she shouted. “I forgot all about your room,” and she dashed into it before us and began to show it off. It was equipped with every bachelor luxury, and with every appliance for health and comfort. “And here,” she said, “he can smoke, or anything, as long as he keeps the door shut. Oh, good gracious! I forgot the bath-room,” and they both united in showing me this, with its tiled floor and walls and its porcelain tub; and then Mrs. Makely flew up the corridor before us. “Put out the electrics, Dick!” she called back over her shoulder.
VI
When we were again seated in the drawing-room, which she had been so near calling a parlor, she continued to bubble over with delight in herself and her apartment. “Now, isn't it about perfect?” she urged, and I had to own that it was indeed very convenient and very charming; and in the rapture of the moment she invited me to criticise it.
“I see very little to criticise,” I said, “from your point of view; but I hope you won't think it indiscreet if I ask a few questions?”
She laughed. “Ask anything, Mr. Homos! I hope I got hardened to your questions in the mountains.”
“She said you used to get off some pretty tough ones,” said her husband, helpless to take his eyes from her, although he spoke to me.
“It is about your servants,” I began.
“Oh, of course! Perfectly characteristic! Go on.”