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"You must come and have a look at my new yacht, Mrs. Moncreiff," said Mr. Gilman in his solemn, thick voice. "I always say that no yacht is herself without ladies on board, a yacht being feminine, you see." He gave a little laugh. "Ah! My oncle!" Madame Piriac broke in. "I see in that no reason. If a yacht was masculine then I could see the reason in it."
The episode was over, and the crowd very gradually and reluctantly scattered, disappointed at the lack of a fatal conclusion. Musa stood up, smiling apologetically, and Audrey supported him by the left arm, for the right could not be touched. "Hadn't you better take him home, Mrs. Moncreiff?" Tommy suggested. "You can get a taxi here in the Rue de Vaugirard."
Our own Sir Henry Moncreiff was a pattern pastor. There was no better pastor in Edinburgh in his day than dear Sir Henry was; and yet, at the same time, everybody knows what an incomparable ecclesiastical casuist Sir Henry was. Mr. Moody, again, is a great preacher, preaching to tens of thousands of hearers at a time; but, at the same time, Mr.
"I do skid sometimes, you know, and we've just come away from a " She could not finish. "And Mrs. Moncreiff, if I've got the name right, is she with us, too?" asked Rosamund, miraculously urbane. And added: "I hear she has wealth and is the mistress of it." Audrey jumped up, smiling, and lifting her veil. She could not help smiling.
You know what the facts of life are, Mrs. Moncreiff. Young as you are you are older than me in some respects, though I have a long life before me. It's just because I have a long life before me dyspeptics are always long-lived that I'm afraid for the future. It wouldn't matter so much if I was an old man."
Then, controlling herself, she moved away. She knew that she could not speak to the captain. She went below, and, before she could escape, found the saloon populated. "Oh! Mrs. Moncreiff!" cried Madame Piriac. "It is a miraculous coincidence. You will never guess. One tells me we are going to the village of Moze for the night; it is because of the tide. You remember, I told you.
I hope you'll tell me the proper names for all the various parts you know what I mean. I hate to use the wrong words. It's not polite on a yacht, is it?" His smile was entranced. "You and I will go round by ourselves to-morrow morning, Mrs. Moncreiff," he said. Just then the steward appeared with the whisky and soda, but Mr.
"Well, I hope you were satisfied." "I only want to know one thing," the detective retorted. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Olivia Moncreiff?" Audrey hesitated, glancing at Madame Piriac, who, in company with the vast Inspector Keeble, was carefully inspecting the floor. She invoked wisdom and sagacity from heaven, and came to a decision. "Not that I know of," she answered.
She thought besides that some of the comfort of married life depended upon the table, so I was sent to a pastrycook for a short time every day, to learn the art of cookery. I had for companions Miss Moncreiff, daughter of Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood, a Scotch baronet of old family. She was older than I, pretty, pleasing, and one of the belles of the day.
Tommy and Nick and Miss Ingate were at once on terms of cordial informality; but the Americans seemed to be a little diffident before the companion. Their voices, at the introduction, had reinforced the surprise of their first glances. "Oh! Mrs. Moncreiff!" The slightest insistence, no more, on the "Mrs."! Nothing said, but evidently they had expected somebody else!
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