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Updated: September 8, 2025
That was the distinction for the ageing stout lady in black. Why, she had not in six years recovered from her surprise that her son and Matthew Peel-Swynnerton treated each other rudely as equals! She and Matthew did not often meet, but they liked each other. Her involuntary meekness flattered him. And his rather elaborate homage flattered her.
Matthew Peel-Swynnerton might not go out into the crepuscular delights of Paris. Unless he remained within the shelter of the Pension, he could not hope to complete successfully his re- conversion from folly to wisdom.
Her own name of Scales intrigued him. Mr. Mardon shook his head. "Bought it on her own, after the husband's time, for a song a song! I know, because I knew the original Frenshams." "You must have been in Paris a long time," said Peel-Swynnerton. Mr. Mardon could never resist an opportunity to talk about himself. His was a wonderful history.
"I suppose so," assented Peel-Swynnerton. The conversation fell for a few moments. "Staying here long?" Mr. Mardon demanded, having added up Peel- Swynnerton as a man of style and of means, and being puzzled by his presence at that table. "I don't know," said Peel-Swynnerton. This was a lie, justified in the utterer's opinion as a repulse to Mr.
Mardon's vulgar inquisitiveness, such inquisitiveness as might have been expected from a fellow who tucked his serviette under his chin. Peel-Swynnerton knew exactly how long he would stay. He would stay until the day after the morrow; he had only about fifty francs in his pocket.
"G-good-night," said Peel-Swynnerton, trying to force the tone of fellowship and not succeeding. Their intimacy, which had sprung up like a mushroom, suddenly fell into dust. Peel-Swynnerton's unspoken comment to Mr. Mardon's back was: "Ass!" Still, the sum of Peel-Swynnerton's knowledge had indubitably been increased during the evening. And the hour was yet early. Half-past ten!
Theoretically Matthew Peel-Swynnerton's mental attitude towards lodging-house keepers was condescending, but here it was not condescending. It had the real respectfulness of a man who for the moment at any rate is impressed beyond his calculations. His glance fell as he said "Peel-Swynnerton." Then he looked up again.
And Peel-Swynnerton, while scorning the man for his fatuity, was impressed. And when that was finished "Yes!" said Mr. Mardon after a pause,, reaffirming everything in general by a single monosyllable. Shortly afterwards he rose, saying that his habits were regular. "Good-night, he said with a mechanical smile.
The hall, with its one light tranquilly burning, was bathed in an honest calm, the calm of a day's work accomplished, of gradual relaxation from tension, of growing expectation of repose. In its simplicity it affected Peel-Swynnerton as a medicine tonic for nerves might have affected him.
He wondered whether he would be able to meet Mrs. Scales without self-consciousness on the morrow. However, he was spared the curious ordeal of meeting her. She did not appear at all on the following day; nor did he see her before he left. The hansom of Matthew Peel-Swynnerton drew up in front of No. 26, Victoria Grove, Chelsea; his kit-bag was on the roof of the cab.
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