Sixteen

I
“I’m home, Arthur!” declared Mrs. Bantry, announcing the fact like aRoyal Proclamation as she flung open the study door.

Colonel Bantry immediately jumped up, kissed his wife, and declaredheartily: “Well, well, that’s splendid!”

The words were unimpeachable, the manner very well done, but an af-fectionate wife of as many years’ standing as Mrs. Bantry was not de-ceived. She said immediately:

“Is anything the matter?”

“No, of course not, Dolly. What should be the matter?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Bantry vaguely. “Things are so queer,aren’t they?”

She threw off her coat as she spoke and Colonel Bantry picked it up ascarefully and laid it across the back of the sofa.

All exactly as usual — yet not as usual. Her husband, Mrs. Bantrythought, seemed to have shrunk. He looked thinner, stooped more; theywere pouches under his eyes and those eyes were not ready to meet hers.

He went on to say, still with that affectation of cheerfulness:

“Well, how did you enjoy your time at Danemouth?”

“Oh! it was great fun. You ought to have come, Arthur.”

“Couldn’t get away, my dear. Lot of things to attend to here.”

“Still, I think the change would have done you good. And you like theJeffersons?”

“Yes, yes, poor fellow. Nice chap. All very sad.”

“What have you been doing with yourself since I’ve been away?”

“Oh, nothing much. Been over the farms, you know. Agreed that Ander-son shall have a new roof—can’t patch it up any longer.”

“How did the Radfordshire Council meeting go?”

“I—well—as a matter of fact I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? But you were taking the chair?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Dolly—seems there was some mistake aboutthat. Asked me if I’d mind if Thompson took it instead.”

“I see,” said Mrs. Bantry.

She peeled off a glove and threw it deliberately into the wastepaper bas-ket. Her husband went to retrieve it, and she stopped him, saying sharply:

“Leave it. I hate gloves.”

Colonel Bantry glanced at her uneasily.

Mrs. Bantry said sternly:

“Did you go to dinner with the Duffs on Thursday?”

“Oh, that! It was put off. Their cook was ill.”

“Stupid people,” said Mrs. Bantry. She went on: “Did you go to theNaylors’ yesterday?”

“I rang up and said I didn’t feel up to it, hoped they’d excuse me. Theyquite understood.”

“They did, did they?” said Mrs. Bantry grimly.

She sat down by the desk and absentmindedly picked up a pair ofgardening scissors. With them she cut off the fingers, one by one, of hersecond glove.

“What are you doing, Dolly?”

“Feeling destructive,” said Mrs. Bantry.

She got up. “Where shall we sit after dinner, Arthur? In the library?”

“Well—er—I don’t think so—eh? Very nice in here—or the drawingroom.”

“I think,” said Mrs. Bantry, “that we’ll sit in the library!”

Her steady eye met his. Colonel Bantry drew himself up to his fullheight. A sparkle came into his eye.

He said:

“You’re right, my dear. We’ll sit in the library!”