The Mandarin of Mayfair
“She had dozed off in the fireside chair in her private parlour. A book lay at her feet and she picked it up and read the title sadly. Mandarin—The Elite Superbly Educated Princes of China." Tears stung her eyes and she quailed from the all too familiar pang of loss and disillusion.
Someone scratched on the door. A hoarse whisper was half drowned by Apollo's growls, but she heard enough to recognize her evening caller, and ordering the dog to "Lie down!" went to open the door.
The black ...habit did not become Enoch Tummet, making him look haggard and older. "Might I pop in, Miss? Jest fer a minute like? I know it's late and not proper, but—" "Don't be silly. This is my parlour, not my bedchamber." She returned to her chair, waved him to the sofa, and watched him expectantly. Well?" He spread his hands. "Nought, miss. Nigh four days now, and not a word." He searched her face anxiously. "I don't s'pose he's bin in touch wiv you today? No letter nor nothing?" "No.MoreLess
Someone scratched on the door. A hoarse whisper was half drowned by Apollo's growls, but she heard enough to recognize her evening caller, and ordering the dog to "Lie down!" went to open the door.
The black ...habit did not become Enoch Tummet, making him look haggard and older. "Might I pop in, Miss? Jest fer a minute like? I know it's late and not proper, but—" "Don't be silly. This is my parlour, not my bedchamber." She returned to her chair, waved him to the sofa, and watched him expectantly. Well?" He spread his hands. "Nought, miss. Nigh four days now, and not a word." He searched her face anxiously. "I don't s'pose he's bin in touch wiv you today? No letter nor nothing?" "No.MoreLess
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