“I have in the house at present,” I replied, “several morning suits, a Norfolk jacket, evening wear, pink silk----”
She tapped impatiently with her foot, shaking a sliver of little drops from the hem of her gown.
“Or perhaps fishing attire would be----?”
“Caroline, Miss Dixon, is out with Arthur, and will doubtless return in much the same state of rainwater as yourself.”
She disappeared towards Carrie’s quarters, her dress making a wet slap on the door as she whisked round. I rose to prepare brandy during her absence.
It should be mentioned that I was confined to my room with a slight attack of rheumatism, which my considerate friends persisted in regarding as gout. As a matter of fact the affection was purely muscular, and I indignantly repudiated the fuller flavour of the alleged complaint. My portliness must not be confounded with decadence.
Disconsolately enough, I had been fingering and sorting old letters, turning out drawer after drawer of forgotten trifles, and feeling none the younger in consequence. It was borne in upon me that I had a history, or some record of trivialities that passed as such; and these little drifted relics of the past had curiously discounted the glamour of what was going to happen to-morrow. Except for the unexpected shower, I should probably have been left to this melancholy occupation all day; and Millicent’s forced visit was very welcome.
She reappeared in garments of Caroline’s, passable in style, but with marked qualifications in the fit. She tops Caroline by three inches. I had often wondered idly where that three inches was accounted for, and how it was distributed. I knew now.
“Shoulders not bad,” I remarked, walking round her, while she stood at a laughing attention for kit inspection. “Waist--turn round--hm!--an inch and a half at most; all right so long as you don’t lean forward. Skirt--ah, the skirt--well, well, I’m past such things. Really, it’s not bad for an improvisation.”
“I couldn’t find Carrie’s slippers,” she said, putting forward a small foot.
The skirt had already revealed the silk-clad toes. I got her a particularly large pair of my own, brought her the brandy, which she drank like a sensible woman of twenty-eight, placed her an armchair near the fire, and resumed my own seat. Then I sought her eyes.