Produced by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Mary
Meehan, and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
On a hot morning at the end of June, some four weeks after the CastleLuton visit, George Tressady walked from Brook Street to Warwick Square,that he might obtain his mother's signature to a document connected withthe Shapetsky negotiations, and go on from there to the House of Commons.
She was not in the drawing-room, and George amused himself during hisminutes of waiting by inspecting the various new photographs of theFullerton family that were generally to be found on her table. What acharacteristic table it was, littered with notes and bills, with patternsfrom every London draper, with fashion-books and ladies' journalsinnumerable! And what a characteristic room, with its tortureddecorations and crowded furniture, and the flattered portraits of LadyTressady, in every caprice of costume, which covered the walls! Georgelooked round it all with an habitual distaste; yet not without the secretadmission that his own drawing-room was very like it.
His mother might, he feared, have a scene in preparation for him.
For Letty, under cover of some lame excuse or other, had persisted inputting off the visit which Lady Tressady had intended to pay them atFerth during the Whitsuntide recess, and since their return to townthere had been no meeting whatever between the two ladies. George,indeed, had seen his mother two or three times. But even he had just letten days pass without visiting her. He supposed he should find her in amood of angry complaint; nor could he deny that there would be somegrounds for it.
"Good morning, George," said a sharp voice, which startled him as he wasreplacing a photograph of the latest Fullerton baby. "I thought you hadforgotten your way here by now."
"Why, mother, I am very sorry," he said, as he kissed her. "But Ihave really been terribly busy, what with two Committees and thisimportant debate."
"Oh! don't make excuses, pray. And of course—for Letty—you won't evenattempt it. I wouldn't if I were you."
Lady Tressady settled herself on a chair with her back to the light, andstraightened the ribbons on her dress with hasty fingers. Something inher voice struck George. He looked at her closely.
"Is there anything wrong, mother? You don't look very well."
Lady Tressady got up hurriedly, and began to move about the room, pickingup a letter here, straightening a picture there. George felt a suddenprick of alarm. Were there some new revelations in store for him? Butbefore he could speak she interrupted him.
"I should be very well if it weren't for this heat," she said pettishly."Do put that photograph down, George!—you do fidget so! Haven't you gotany news for me—anything to amuse me? Oh! those horrid papers!—I see.Well! they'll wait a little. By the way, the 'Morning Post' says thatyoung scamp, Lord Ancoats, has gone abroad. I suppose that girl wasbought off."
She sat down again in a shady corner, fanning herself vigorously.
"I am afraid I can't tell you any secrets," said George, smiling, "for I