“We’ll see who gets there first,” said he.
When the meal was over, she stood by the door which he held open for her and hesitated for a moment.
“I wonder whether you would care to look over the house?”
“I should immensely. But—if you’re not going to let it——”
“You’ll be able, at any rate, to tell Mr. Trivett that he had no business to send you to such an old rabbit warren,” she replied, with some demureness.
“I’m at your orders,” smiled Olifant.
She played cicerone with her little business-like air of dignity, spoke in a learned fashion of water supply, flues, and boilers. Olifant looked wisely at the kitchen range, while Myra stood at impassive attention and the cook took refuge in the scullery.
“These holes are to put saucepans on, I presume,” said he.
“You’ve hit it exactly,” said Olivia.
They went upstairs. On the threshold of the best bedroom he paused and cried, in some astonishment: “What an exquisite room!”