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The doors of the several rooms were closed, and no one was about. Decima spoke in a whisper "Lionel, I cannot divest myself of the opinion that that " "That what?" he asked, looking at her in wonder, for she was hesitating strangely, her manner shrinking, her voice awe-struck. "That it was Dr. West who took the codicil."
But I envy the patients less," glancing involuntarily towards Lionel as she spoke. Jan glanced at him too. "Lionel, I'll bring you round some better stuff than this," said he. "What are you eating?" "Nothing," put in Decima. "Dr. West keeps him upon arrowroot and beef-tea, and such things." "Slops," said Jan contemptuously.
It was not his secret, and I expect he did not consider himself at liberty to tell even you. Decima would have imparted it to you years ago, when I went away, but for one thing." "What may that have been?" asked Lady Verner.
Lucy Tempest had found her way to Decima's room, and had taken up her position in a very undignified fashion at that young lady's feet, her soft, candid brown eyes fixed upwards on Decima's face, and her tongue busy with reminiscences of India. After some time spent in this manner, she was scared away by the entrance of a gentleman whom Decima called "Jan."
"Believe it, you should say, Decima. Dr. West take the codicil! Were I to bring myself to that belief, I think all my faith in man would go out. You are sadly prejudiced against the Wests." "And you in their favour," she could not help saying. "But I shall ever be thankful for one thing that you have escaped Sibylla." Was he thankful for it?
"The sitting-room again! What shall you and Decima do without it?" exclaimed Lionel, looking as he felt vexed. "If we never have anything worse to put up with than the loss of a sitting-room that was nearly superfluous, we shall not grieve," answered Lucy, with a smile. "How did we do without it before when you were getting better from that long illness? We had to do without it then."
"There's no 'best' to be made," she replied, with a shower of tears, as she pushed his hand and his face away. Catherine knocked at the door. Miss Decima had sent her and bade her say that dinner was on the point of being served. Sibylla sprang up from the sofa, and dried her tears. "I wonder whether I can get at my gold combs?" cried she, all her grief flying away.
Perhaps John was less of an ornament to a social party than even Jan, but Lionel had been anxious that no slight should be placed upon him. It would have been a slight for the owner of Verner's Pride to be left out at Decima Verner's wedding. Lady Verner held out a little while; she did not like John Massingbird: never had liked any of the Massingbirds; but Lionel carried his point.
If you, good, grave sir, had been stoical enough to resist the upturned face, Lionel was not. He bent his lips and left a kiss upon it. "Keep it until we meet again," he whispered. Jan came in while they were at breakfast. "I can't stop a minute," were his words when Decima asked him why he did not sit down. "I thought I'd run up and say good-bye to Lionel, but I am wanted in all directions. Mrs.
She had thought him too strong to care what women thought of him once they had served him and been cast aside. True, she was not precisely one of these. The Via Decima proved to be one of the wide new streets near the Porta San Gallo. No. 38 was a pretentious house, a tenement building trying to look like a palace, and it was plastered over with dingy yellow stucco.
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