United States or Jordan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The car stopped under a porte cochere, before a long brown house of heavy clapboards, with shingled roof and green blinds. Farraday jumped down and helped Mary out, and the front door opened to reveal the shining grin of McEwan, poised above the gray head of a little lady who advanced with outstretched hand to greet them. "My mother Mrs. Byrd," Farraday introduced.
McEwan greeted him with a "Hello," and shook hands warmly with the two women. They all moved into the hall, Mary under the wing of Mrs. Farraday, who presently took her upstairs to a bedroom. "Thee must rest here before dinner," said she, smoothing with a tiny hand the crocheted bedspread. "Ring this bell if there is anything thee wants. Shall I send Mr. Byrd up to thee?"
Farraday and Jamie, and trifles for Constance and Miss Mason, but the holly and mistletoe, the tree, the new frock and the Christmas fare which normally she would have planned with so much joy, were missing.
Mary, hoping he was not going to be naughty, embarked on the Long Island topic. "We want to be within an hour of the city," she explained, "but in pretty country. We want to keep house, but not to pay too much. We should like to be near the sea. Does that sound wildly impossible?" Farraday fingered his cigarette reflectively.
Even Farraday lost ground in his esteem, for, though guilty of no banalities, he had a way of silently hovering over the baby-carriage which Stefan found mysteriously irritating. Jamie alone of their masculine friends seemed to adopt a comprehensible attitude, for he backed away in hasty alarm whenever the infant, in arms or carriage, bore down upon him.
Mr. Gunther has known me for years, but have I had a chance to sit for him? I feel myself turning green, and as my gown is yellow it will be most unbecoming!" And seizing Farraday as if for consolation, she bore him to the dining room to find a drink.
Byrd, there are undoubtedly publications in which these drawings could find a place, and I am only sorry that mine are not amongst them. May I, however, venture to offer you a suggestion?" Stefan was beginning to look bored, but Mary interposed with a quick "Oh, please do!" Farraday turned to her. "Mrs. Byrd, you will bear me out in this, I think.
He asked more about her work and that of her husband. "We like to have some personal knowledge of our authors; it helps us in criticism and suggestion," he explained. Mary described Stefan's success in Paris, and mentioned his sketches of downtown New York. Farraday looked interested. "I should like to see those," he said. "We have an illustrated review in which we sometimes use such things.
He felt uncomfortable. "Don't you think he would get the right atmosphere better perhaps than anyone?" queried Farraday, who seemed courteously anxious to elicit Stefan's opinion. Mary interposed hastily. "Mr. Farraday, he can't answer you. I'm afraid I've been stupid, but I was so pessimistic about these verses that I wouldn't show them to him.
"So I am, and vain of being vain. I believe in being as conceited as possible, conceited enough to make one's conceit good." She smiled indulgently, knowing that, as he was talking nonsense, he felt happy. Farraday appeared in a few minutes, and they settled in a group round the fire with coffee and cigarettes. Stefan offered Mary one. She shook her head. "I'm not smoking now, you know." "Did Dr.
Word Of The Day