"
"Your position in this house gives you free access to me, Mrs. Major.
Regard your place as one of my own circle. Do not let deference stifle
intercourse."
The masterly woman hove a superb sigh. "If you knew how I feel your
kindness, Mr. Marrapit. Truly, as I say to myself every night, fair is
my lot and goodly is my--" Icy dismay took her. Was the missing word
"hermitage" or "heritage"? With masterly decision she filled the blank
with a telling choke; keyed her voice to a brilliant suggestion of
brightness struggling with tears: "The sweetling cats are safely
sleeping. I have come straight from them. Ah, how they miss you! How
well they know you suffer!"
"They do?" A tremble of pleasure was in Mr. Marrapit's voice.
"They does--do." Mrs. Major recited their day, gave their menu. "I
must not tarry," she concluded; "you need rest. Good night, Mr.
Marrapit. Good night."
"Good night, Mrs. Major."
Mr. Marrapit put out his candle.
VI.
And now in every room, save one, Sleep drew her velvet fingers down
recumbent forms; pressed eyelids with her languorous kiss; upon her
warm breast pillowed willing heads; about her bedfellows drew her
Circe arms.
Mrs. Major's room was that single exception, and it is that masterly
woman's apartment we now shall penetrate.
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