She adored reciting, and Miss
Coniston, to gratify her, offered to recite a poem by Emile Cammaerts
on the spot.
As to Mr. Mitchell, Madame Frabelle drew him out with more care and
caution. With the obstinacy of the mistaken she still saw in Mr.
Mitchell's friendly looks at his hostess a passion for Edith, and shook
her grey head over the blindness of the poor dear wife.
Bruce hung on her words and was open-mouthed while she spoke, so
impressed was he at her wonderful cleverness, and at her evident success
with his friends.
Later on Landi, sitting in the ingle-nook with Edith, said, as he puffed
a cigar:
'Tiens, ma chere Edith, tu ne vois pas quelque chose?'
'What?'
He always talked French, as a middle course between Italian and English,
and Edith spoke her own language to him.
'Elle. La Mere Frabelle,' he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton
mari!'
'Oh, really, Landi! That's your fancy!'
He mimicked her. 'Farncy! Farncy! Je me suis monte l'imagination,
peut-etre! J'ai un rien de fievre, sans doute! C'est une idee que j'ai,
comme ca. Eh bien! Non! Nous verrons. Je te dis qu'elle est amoureuse
de Bruce.'
'He is very devoted to her, I know,' said Edith, 'and I daresay he's a
little in love with her--in a way.
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