When Vibart,
rashly trespassing on the rights of this unseen oracle, remarked that a
few weeks at the seashore would make a delightful change for Miss
Carstyle, the ladies looked at him and then laughed.
It was at this point that Vibart, for the first time, found himself
observed by Mr. Carstyle. They were grouped about the debris of a luncheon
which had ended precipitously with veal stew (Mrs. Carstyle explaining
that poor cooks _always_ failed with their sweet dish when there was
company) and Mr. Carstyle, his hands thrust in his pockets, his lean
baggy-coated shoulders pressed against his chair-back, sat contemplating
his guest with a smile of unmistakable approval. When Vibart caught his
eye the smile vanished, and Mr. Carstyle, dropping his glasses from the
bridge of his thin nose, looked out of the window with the expression of a
man determined to prove an alibi. But Vibart was sure of the smile: it had
established, between his host and himself, a complicity which Mr.
Carstyle's attempted evasion served only to confirm.
On the strength of this incident Vibart, a few days later, called at Mr.
Carstyle's office. Ostensibly, the young man had come to ask, on his
aunt's behalf, some question on a point at issue between herself and the
Millbrook telephone company; but his purpose in offering to perform the
errand had been the hope of taking up his intercourse with Mr. Carstyle
where that gentleman's smile had left it.
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