I can explain for you."
"It's mighty good of you."
"It will be a pleasure. Rely on me."
Ann, who had returned from her drive shortly after the Ogden
disaster and had instantly proceeded to the boarding-house, had
been shown into the parlour. Jimmy found her staring in a rapt
way at a statuette of the Infant Samuel which stood near a bowl
of wax fruit on the mantelpiece. She was feeling aggrieved with
Fate and extremely angry with Jerry Mitchell, and she turned at
the sound of the opening door with a militant expression in her
eyes, which changed to one of astonishment on perceiving who it
was that had come in.
"Mr. Bayliss!"
"Good evening, Miss Chester. We, so to speak, meet again. I have
come as an intermediary. To be brief, Jerry Mitchell daren't face
you, so I offered to come down instead."
"But how--but why are you here?"
"I live here." He followed her gaze. It rested on a picture of
cows in a field. "Late American school," he said. "Attributed to
the landlady's niece, a graduate of the Wissahickon, Pa.
Correspondence School of Pictorial Art. Said to be genuine."
"You _live_ here?" repeated Ann. She had been brought up all her
life among the carefully thought out effects of eminent interior
decorators, and the room seemed more dreadful to her than it
actually was. "What an awful room!"
"Awful? You must be overlooking the piano. Can't you see the
handsome plush cover from where you are standing? Move a little
to the southeast and shade your eyes.
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