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Updated: May 13, 2025
Maper could really have been so mean as to omit her share in the quarrel, but he went on eagerly: "Quite so, quite so. And what do you think it has been for me?" She murmured inarticulate sympathy. "Ah, if you only knew! Oh, my dear Miss O'Keeffe, while you've been in the house, it's been like heaven." "I'm glad I've given satisfaction," she said drily. "Then what do you give by going?
She made straight for the iron staircase to the grounds, and came face to face with Robert Maper. Twilight was not his hour for the library she saw even through her perturbation that he was pacing it in fond memory. His face lighted up with amazement, as though the dead had come up through a tombstone. "Good-by!" she said, shifting her handbag to her left hand and holding out her right.
"Oh, the merry master of marionettes, the night my love comes from beyond the seas, you send me to supper with Robert Maper." She waited with impatience. Now that the long-dreaded discovery had come, she was consumed with curiosity as to its effect upon the discoverer. At last she remembered to wash off the rouge and the messes necessary for stage-perspective.
But suddenly she heard herself interrupting quietly. "I shall not sleep under your roof another night." Mrs. Maper paused so abruptly that her forefinger fell limp. She was not sure she meant to give her companion notice, and have the trouble of training another, and she certainly did not wish to be dismissed instead of dismissing. "Silly chit!" she said in more conciliatory tones.
Eileen almost betrayed herself by giggling, as at the real stage melodrama. When Mrs. Maper ran downstairs to interrogate the servants eruption into the kitchen was one of her incurable habits Eileen slipped through the wide-flung door, down the staircase, and then, seeing the butler ahead, turned sharp off to the little-used part of the corridor and so into the library.
All those whirring engines in the misty valley below were her demon-slaves, and the chimneys puffed up incense at her. When she drove out, her life-blood coursed pleasurably through the ramping, glossy horses. Mrs. Maper, in short, saw herself an empress. It was simply impossible for her to realise that there were eyes which could still see the head-shawl, not the crown.
Maper brought her into the counting-house, she had forgotten that she must meet his son there. The white-browed clerk in corduroys did not, however, raise his eyes from his ledger, and Eileen was grateful to him for preserving the piquancy of their relation.
"Who can refine what Fortune has gilded?" she asked herself in humorous despair. The appearance of Mr. Maper at dinner brought little relief. It was a strange meal in the lordly dining room three covers laid at one end of the long mahogany table, under the painted stare of somebody else's ancestors.
It occurred to her suddenly that he might be on the black list. But she was afraid to ask her Confessor for fear of hearing her doubt confirmed. To tell the good father of the semi-secret meetings in the library would have been superfluous, since there was nothing to conceal even from Mrs. Maper, though that lady did not happen to know of them. Eileen did not even use the garden door.
"Well, are you ready to come to supper?" The governess's instinct corrected "dinner." Mrs. Maper when excited was always tripping into this betrayal of auld lang syne, but she preserved a disdainful silence. "Eileen, why don't you hanser?" Still silence. The key grated in the lock. Eileen looked round desperately. The thought of meeting Mrs. Maper again was intolerable.
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