He was very fond of driving by night, and she
had very quickly adopted his fancy: as she sat next to him hour after
hour, admiring the dexterous, certain way in which he handled the
reins, she often wondered what went on in that slow-going head of his.
He never told her, and she had never cared to ask.
At "The Fisherman's Rest" Mr. Jellyband was going the round,
putting out the lights. His bar customers had all gone, but upstairs
in the snug little bedrooms, Mr. Jellyband had quite a few important
guests: the Comtesse de Tournay, with Suzannne, and the Vicomte, and
there were two more bedrooms ready for Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord
Antony Dewhurst, if the two young men should elect to honour the
ancient hostelry and stay the night.
For the moment these two young gallants were comfortably installed in
the coffee-room, before the huge log-fire, which, in spite of the
mildness of the evening, had been allowed to burn merrily.
"I say, Jelly, has everyone gone?" asked Lord Tony, as the
worthy landlord still busied himself clearing away glasses and mugs.
"Everyone, as you see, my lord."
"And all your servants gone to bed?"
"All except the boy on duty in the bar, and," added Mr.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119