Mr. Rodney had now set foot upon the path of magnanimity. He bit his lower lip, and took another step upon it. [Pg 60] [Pg 60] "I shall be glad to rectify my error next week," he said. "I am obliged to you." "In the meanwhile, anything that I can do to render your short"—he paused interrogatively; there was no rejoinder, and he continued—"stay among us agreeable, I shall be only too happy to accomplish." The tweed suit bowed convulsively, and Mrs. Verulam began to breathe audibly upon her sofa. "Mitching Dean," Mr. Rodney added, with a sense of glorious martyrdom, "Mitching Dean is entirely at your service." "Mitching Dean!" the tweed suit repeated, with a befogged intonation. "Yes. Its butter, its roof, its roses——" "Roses!" said the suit, as if trying to break an intolerable spell. "Ah! the English roses are exquisite! I have some dark-red ones in my room here." Mrs. Verulam coughed sharply. Mr. Rodney's face grew a dull brick-red. "Dark-red roses in your room?" he said. He looked rapidly at all the drawing-room vases, and then cast a pale and reproachful glance at Mrs. Verulam. Then he got up slowly. He felt that his investigation into the relations of the pretty widow and the divorced American orange-grower could not be pursued satisfactorily in such a moment of confusion and despair. He must have time for thought. To-night he would free himself as early as might be from the thraldom of the Bun Emperor. He would wander amid the japanned-tin groves of the Crystal Palace. He would seek the poetical solitude afforded by an exhibition of motor-cars, or plunge into the peaceful villages of the chocolate-hued and inanimate Burmese.[Pg 61] To-night! to-night! He must think; he must collect himself; he must reason; he must plan. [Pg 61] "My train," he murmured a little frantically; "I must catch it. I must go! I must indeed!"
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