Otherwise--she paused; for what she
would do otherwise she did not know herself. But she paused and looked
impenetrable, majestic and menacing, and Costanza was cowed.
Then Mrs. Fisher, having dismissed her with a gesture, went in
search of Lady Caroline to complain. She had been under the impression
that Lady Caroline ordered the meals and therefore was responsible for
the prices, but now it appeared that the cook had been left to do
exactly as she pleased ever since they got there, which of course was
simply disgraceful.
Scrap was not in her bedroom, but the room, on Mrs. Fisher's
opening the door, for she suspected her of being in it and only
pretending not to hear the knock, was still flowerlike from her
presence.
"Scent," sniffed Mrs. Fisher, shutting it again; and she wished
Carlyle could have had five minutes' straight talk with this young
woman. And yet--perhaps even he--
She went downstairs to go into the garden in search of her, and
in the hall encountered Mr. Wilkins. He had his hat on, and was
lighting a cigar.
Indulgent as Mrs. Fisher felt towards Mr. Wilkins, and peculiarly
and even mystically related after the previous morning's encounter, she
yet could not like a cigar in the house. Out of doors she endured it,
but it was not necessary, when out of doors was such a big place, to
indulge the habit indoors.
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