Not a member? Join for FREE here. Existing members login below:

Jeanne Of The Marshes

Chapter I.5
The Princess was only obeying a faint sign from Forrest. She leaned forward and
addressed her host.
"It isn't a bad idea," she declared. "Where are we going to play bridge, Cecil? In
some smaller room, I hope. This one is really beginning to get on my nerves a
little. There is an ancestor exactly opposite who has fixed me with a luminous
and a disapproving eye. And the blank spaces on the wall! Ugh! I feel like a Goth.
We are too modern for this place, Cecil."
Their host laughed as he rose and turned towards Jeanne.
"Your mother," he said, "is beginning to be conscious of her environment. I know
exactly how she is feeling, for I myself am a constant sufferer. Are you, too,
sighing for the gilded salons of civilization?"
"Not in the least," Jeanne answered frankly. "I am tired of mirrors and electric
lights and babble. I prefer our present surroundings, and I should not mind at all if
some of those disapproving ancestors of yours stepped out of their frames and
took their places with us here."
Cecil laughed.
"If they have been listening to our conversation," he said, "I think that they will
stay where they are. Like royalty," he continued, "we can boast an octagonal
chamber. I fear that its glories are of the past, but it is at least small, and the
wallpaper is modern. I have ordered coffee and the card-tables there. Shall we
go?"
He led the way out of the gloomy room, chilly and bare, yet in a way magnificent
still with its reminiscences of past splendour, across the hall, modernized with
rugs and recent furnishing, into a smaller apartment, where cheerfulness reigned.
 
Remove