Читать книгу Kitty - Warwick Deeping - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Mrs St. George dined at eight.

Everything was the same as it had always been. Cummins, when she was not handling dishes or clearing away plates, stood by the Hepplewhite sideboard. The same portraits of the same St. Georges looked down from the walls upon mother and son. “Waterloo St. George”, in his guardsman’s coat, smiled that half-ironical smile. There was the same silver on the table, the forks with the St. George monogram, the Regency salt-cellars, mustard-pots and pepperets, the same white service with the blue border. Red and white tulips filled the wedgwood vase in the centre of the table. The old-gold curtains, drawn over the closed shutters, seemed to emit a soft glow.

Embarrassment made a third at the table. To Cummins, Mr Alex looked all eyes; he seemed to have no appetite; she noticed that he glanced often at his mother as though interrogating that coldly handsome and impassive face.