On his thin nose the dew glistened, and his thick fat hands
were hot; but Rosamund was too bored to be rude to him, and Alixe turned
immediately to Gerald:
"Yes, I did get your note, but I'm not at home on Tuesday. Can't you
come--wait a moment!--what are you doing this afternoon?"
"Why, I'm going back to the office with Mr. Neergard--"
"Nonsense! Oh, Mr. Neergard, _would_ you mind"--very sweetly--"if Mr.
Erroll did not go to the office this afternoon?"
Neergard looked at her--almost--a fixed and uncomfortable smirk on his
round, red face: "Not at all, Mrs. Ruthven, if you have anything better
for him--"
"I have--an allopathic dose of it. Thank you, Mr. Neergard.
Rosamund, we ought to start, you know: Gerald!"--with quiet
significance--"_good_-bye, Mr. Neergard. Please do not buy up the rest
of Long Island, because we need a new kitchen-garden very badly."
Rosamund scarcely nodded his dismissal. And the next moment Neergard
found himself quite alone, standing with the smirk still stamped on his
stiffened features, his hat-brim and gloves crushed in his rigid
fingers, his little black mousy eyes fixed on nothing, as usual.
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