Mystery in White. J. Jefferson Farjeon
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Название: Mystery in White
Автор: J. Jefferson Farjeon
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066386719
isbn:
“Nice of you to do all the work,” said David.
Thomson’s advent had cut across the conversation and temporarily ended it. He was like a bit of grit that had got into a smoothly running engine.
“No, not at all, not at all,” he replied. “I like washing up. Well, you know what I mean. If it’s got to be done.”
The pink spots grew pinker. He didn’t want anybody to think his soul was so small that the pleasure of washing up filled it. On the other hand, he didn’t want to imply that he had been a martyr. Funny how you could sometimes think of the right words, and at other times they seemed a mile off. Lots of things seemed a mile off to Thomson at this moment. In fact, almost everything but the fire, and that was too close.
“Is it getting warmer?” he asked.
Before anybody could answer him he began sneezing. It was his longest bout.
“Seven,” he murmured, smiling mirthlessly. “That must be a record. Not really, of course. I remember one chap who sneezed sixteen times. Hay fever. Atchoo!”
As Thomson came up from his eighth sneeze, his eyes caught a glimpse of something blue. It was the blue of a dressing-gown. It gave him a strange sense of peace, though also an impulse to cry. Of course, he mustn’t do that. That would finish him!... Hot? Had he said it was hot?
Mr. Maltby and David glanced at each other, and then at Lydia on the stairs.
“That fellow’s going to be ill, if he’s not looked after,” murmured Mr. Maltby.
“Shall I put him to bed, too?” asked Lydia.
“Eh? What? I’m all right!” gasped Thomson, as the room swam. “I just get them sometimes. Colds. They don’t mean anything.”
“I’ll take responsibility for this,” said Mr. Maltby. “Stick him between sheets somewhere!”
A few moments later Thomson found himself being led up the stairs by the Most Beautiful Girl in the World. She had hold of his arm.... She was close to him ... Oh, nonsense!...
“The one thing it is useless to fight, Mr. Carrington,” remarked Mr. Maltby, “is the inevitable. I think we were talking about Mr. Smith.”
The front door was shoved open the next instant, and the subject of their conversation staggered in.
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