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Stunned silence; and Malcourt turned to his sister and spoke in a low voice, but she only shook her head, shivering, and stared at the wreck of wood as though revolted. "W-what happened?" faltered Portlaw, bewildered. "I don't know," said Malcourt unsteadily. "Don't know! Look at that table! Why, man, it's it's dying!" Tressilvain stood as though stupefied.
I don't know what's got into you and Herby"; and to the latter's protest he added pleasantly: "You talk like a bucket of ashes. Go on and deal!" "A what!" demanded Tressilvain angrily. "It's an Americanism," observed his wife, surveying her cards with masked displeasure and making it spades. "Louis, I never held such hands in all my life," she said, displaying the meagre dummy.
Portlaw, back to the fire, stood staring out at the rain; Lady Tressilvain, a cigarette between her thin lips, wandered through the work-shop and loading-room where, from hooks in the ceiling, a thicket of split-cane rod-joints hung, each suspended by a single strong thread.
His sister's recently shaped grave lay just beyond. As yet, Bertie had provided no headstone for the late Lady Tressilvain. Hamil stood inspecting Malcourt's name, finding it impossible to realise that he was dead or for that matter, unable to comprehend death at all.
"I say that I understand you and Helen are leaving us to-morrow." "I had not thought of leaving," said Tressilvain. "Think again," suggested Malcourt. "What do you mean?" Malcourt walked up very close and looked him in the face. "Must I explain?" he asked contemptuously. "I will if you like you clumsy card-slipping, ace-pricking blackguard!... The station-wagon will be ready at seven.
Portlaw consulted his note-book, made a wry face, and gave Malcourt the exact total. Malcourt turned carelessly in his chair. "O Herbert!" he called across to his brother-in-law; "don't you and Helen want to take us on?" "Rather!" replied Tressilvain briskly; and came trotting across the room, his close-set black eyes moving restlessly from Malcourt to Portlaw.
For they sneered at the trout, calling them "char," patronised the rather scanty pheasantry, commented on the kennels, stables, and gardens in a manner that brought the red into Portlaw's face and left him silent while luncheon lasted. After luncheon Tressilvain tried the billiards, but found the game inferior to the English game.
"Well, what the devil does it mean?" demanded Portlaw peevishly. "I can't spare you now. How can I? Here's Hamil all ready for you to take him about and show him what I want to have done " "I wonder what it means," mused Malcourt. "Maybe there's something wrong with the Tressilvain end of the family. The Shoshone Securities people manage her investments here "
For a full minute, in strained silence, the concentrated gaze of the Tressilvains was focused upon the guileless countenance of Malcourt; and discovered nothing except a fatuous cordiality. Lady Tressilvain drew a deep, noiseless breath and glanced at her husband.
Decadent in morals, in physique, mean mentally and spiritually, they are even worse off than respectfully cherished ruins, because they are out of fashion; they and their dingy dwellings. Our house is on the market; I'd be glad to see it sold only Tressilvain will get half." "In you," she said, "there seems to be other things, besides reverence, which are out of fashion."
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