Here Mark
meditated sometimes before retiring to the "office" to put his
thoughts upon paper. The thoughts were not of any great value;
moreover, they were given off at the dinner-table more often than
they got on to paper, and got on to paper more often than they
got into print. But that did not prevent the master of The Red
House from being a little pained when a visitor treated the
Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the ordinary
purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an
occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in
it. Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little
less than his usual point--whether they couldn't find anywhere
else for their game, but the offenders were never asked to The
Red House again.
Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked
slowly back. All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was
upstairs in his room. "Not well-dressed enough for the
drawing-room." Well, now, Auntie, would you like anyone in your
drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his neck and great big
dusty boots, and--listen! One of the men shooting rabbits.
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