Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/129

Rh “What a shame we may not ask him to roar his old roars over for us,” said Lettie.

“What are they like?” he asked.

“How should I know? Like a sucking dove, to judge from your present voice. ‘A monstrous little voice.’&thinsp;”

He laughed uncomfortably.

She went on sewing, suddenly beginning to sing to herself:

“I suppose,” she added, “that may be so. Poor mouse!—but I guess she’s none the worse. You did not see the queen, though?”

“She was not in London,” he replied, sarcastically.

“You don’t——” she said, taking two pins from between her teeth. “I suppose you don’t mean by that, she was in Eberwich—your queen?”

“I don’t know where she was,” he answered angrily.

“Oh!” she said, very sweetly, “I thought perhaps you had met her in Eberwich. When did you come back?”

“Last night,” he replied.

“Oh—why didn’t you come and see us before?”

“I’ve been at the offices all day.”

“I’ve been up to Eberwich,” she said innocently.

“Have you?”

“Yes. And I feel so cross because of it. I