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Elinor showed a neat parcel tucked under her muff-arm. "Chicken and lettuce," she said delectably. "White grapes for dessert. Have you seen Margaret Howes and Griffin?" "Quite so, and into that gloomy courtyard which surrounds the house of Dr. Etwald," added Major Jen, with a satisfied smile, "Battersea saw the doctor take the body out of the carriage and carry it into the house. Then, on his return--Etwald's I mean--he unharnessed the horse and put it into the stable; also the carriage into the coach-house. Is that not so, Mr. Arkel?" I don't know how all this is going to end, and I wish my mind wasn't in a kind of tingle. However, I'll do the best I can and not hold myself at all responsible for myself, and then who will there be to blame?.
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"Why, you goose! Don't you see that it makes it easy for you!" cried Patricia, her eyes dancing. "You can simply put your nice big box of candy on the model stand during a rest, and they won't dare ask you to do any stunts with him in the room." The note which the major handed over was curt to the verge of rudeness. It merely stated that the writer had gone to London for a couple of days on business, and would be back as soon as possible. No explanation of what the business might be was given. Maurice did not wonder than Jen was annoyed at receiving such a missive from one whom he regarded in the light of a son; but in handing it back to the major he excused the writer. "Isn't it lovely and mysterious?" murmured Elinor, pausing to enjoy the sense of isolation that the obscurity of the blurred lamps emphasized. "I almost hate to lift the curtain. It may be so disappointing." "Don't talk like this. You are at my table. There is a stranger" (here he bowed ceremoniously to Etwald) "or shall I say a friend, present!".
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