"
Laurie rose and stood opposite the shelves.
"What color is it? (No, no more tea, thanks.)"
"Er ... black and red, I think," said the girl. "I forget."
She looked up at him, faintly uneasy, as he very deliberately drew
down a book from the shelf and turned the pages.
"Yes ... this is it," he said. "Thanks very much.... No, really no
more tea, thanks, mother."
Then he went to the door, with his easy, rather long steps, and
disappeared. They heard his steps in the inner hall. Then a door
closed overhead.
Mrs. Baxter contentedly poured herself out another cup of tea.
"Poor boy," she said. "He's thinking of that girl still. I'm glad he's
got something to occupy his mind."
The end room, on the first floor, was Laurie's possession. It was a
big place, with two windows, and a large open fire, and he had
skillfully masked the fact that it was a bedroom by disposing his
furniture, with the help of a screen, in such a manner as completely
to hide the bed and the washing arrangements.
The rest of the room he had furnished in a pleasing male kind of
fashion, with a big couch drawn across the fire, a writing-table and
chairs, a deep easy chair near the door, and a long, high bookcase
covering the wall between the door and the windows.
Pages:
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