He knew someone who would
assuredly proceed in that way.
Metamorphosis! Richard Mutimer speculates on asthetic problems.
'You, gentlemen, I dare say will be wicked enough to smoke,'
remarked Mrs. Waltham, as she rose from the table.
'I tell you what we shall be wicked enough to do, mother,' exclaimed
Alfred. 'We shall have two cups of coffee brought out into the
garden, and spare your furniture!'
'Very well, my son. Your _two_ cups evidently mean that Adela and I
are not invited to the garden.'
'Nothing of the kind. But I know you always go to sleep, and Adela
doesn't like tobacco smoke.'
'I go to sleep, Alfred! You know very well that I have a very
different occupation for my Sunday afternoons.'
'I really don't care anything about smoking,' observed Mutimer, with
a glance at Adela.
'Oh, you certainly shall not deprive yourself on my account, Mr.
Mutimer,' said the girl, good-naturedly. 'I hope soon to come out
into the garden, and I am not at all sure that my objection to
tobacco is serious.'
Ah, if Mrs. Mewling could have heard that speech! Mrs. Mewling's age
was something less than fifty; probably she had had time to forget
how a young girl such as Adela speaks in pure frankness and never
looks back to muse over a double meaning.
It was nearly three o'clock.
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