She passed from the bedroom to the sitting-room; here was the same
vulgar order, the same musty smell. The table was laid for dinner.
Mutimer read his wife's countenance furtively. He could not discover
how the abode impressed her, and he put no question. When he
returned from the bedroom she was sitting before the fire, pensive.
'You're hungry, I expect?' he said.
Her appetite was far from keen, but in order not to appear
discontented she replied that she would be glad of dinner.
The servant, her hands and face half washed, presently appeared with
a tray on which were some mutton-chops, potatoes, and a cabbage.
Adela did her best to eat, but the chops were ill-cooked, the
vegetables poor in quality. There followed a rice-pudding; it was
nearly cold; coagulated masses of rice appeared beneath yellowish
water. Mutimer made no remark about the food till the table was
cleared. Then he said:
'They'll have to do better than that. The first day, of
course--You'll have a talk with the landlady whilst I'm out
to-night. Just let her see that you won't be content with
_anything_; you have to talk plainly to these people.'
'Yes, I'll speak about it,' Adela replied.
'They made a trouble at first about waiting on us,' Mutimer pursued.
'But I didn't see how we could get our own meals very well.
Pages:
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614