"
"Well," said I, "I dread it."
Mr. Gryce looked about on the gorgeous walls and the rich old
fashioned furniture that surrounded him, and smiled one of his
grimmest smiles.
"Well, you may," said he.
The next instant a servant stood in the doorway, bearing to our great
astonishment, a tray well set with decanter and glasses.
"Mr. Blake's compliments, gentlemen," said he, setting it down on the
table before us. "He hopes you will make yourselves at home and he
will see you as soon as possible."
The humph! of Mr. Gryce when the servant had gone would have done your
soul good, also the look he cast at the pretty Dresden Shepherdess on
the mantel-piece, as I reached out my hand towards the decanter.
Somehow it made me draw back.
"I think we had better leave his wine alone," said he.
And for half an hour we sat there, the wine untouched between us,
listening alternately to the sound of speech-making and laughter that
came from the dining-room, and the solemn ticking of the clock as it
counted out the seconds on the mantel-piece. Then the guests came in
from the table, filing before us past the open door on their way to
the parlors. They were all gentlemen of course--Mr. Blake never
invited ladies to his house--and gentlemen of well known repute.
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