For an appreciable time, say, thirty
seconds, Boyce stood stock still, looking at her from under heavy
contracted brows. Then he recovered himself, smiled, and advanced
to her with outstretched hand, But, on his movement, she had been
quick to turn and bend down in order to pick up the book that had
fallen from my fingers on the further side of my chair. So,
swiftly he wheeled to me with his handshake. It was very deft
manoeuvring on both sides.
"The faithful Marigold didn't tell me that you weren't alone,
Meredyth," he said in his cordial, charming way. "Otherwise I
shouldn't have intruded. But my dear old mother had an attack of
something and went to bed immediately after dinner, and I thought
I'd come round and have a smoke and a drink in your company."
Betty, who had occupied herself by replacing Matthew Arnold's
poems in the bookcase, caught up the box of cigars that lay on the
brass tray table by my side, and offered it to him.
"Here is the smoke," she said.
And when, after a swift, covert glance at her, he had selected a
cigar, she went to the bell-push by the mantelpiece.
"The drinks will be here in a minute."
In order to do something to save this absurd situation, I drew
from my waistcoat pocket a little cigar-cutter attached to my
watch-chain, and clipped the end of his cigar.
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