Bobby had told him the day before
that his father might be coming. "The rest of the family will turn up
for certain. They want to see you. They're always all agog for any new
thing--one of them's always playing Cabot to somebody else's Columbus.
But father's uncertain. He gets something into his head and then nothing
whatever will draw him out--but I expect he'll turn up."
The other visitor was announced to Peter on the very day.
"By the way, Peter, somebody's coming to tea this afternoon who's met you
before--met you at that odd boarding-house of yours--a Miss Rossiter.
Clare's an old friend of ours. I told you down at the sea about her and you
said you remembered meeting her."
"Remembered meeting her!" Did Dante remember meeting Beatrice--did Petrarch
remember Laura? Did Keats forget his Fanny Brawne? Did Richard Feverel
forget his Lucy?
On a level with these high-thinking gentlemen was Peter, disguising his
emotions from Alice's sharp eyes but silent, breathless, wanting some other
place than that high studio in which to breathe. "Yes--she came to tea once
with a Miss Monogue there--I liked her...."
He was not there, but rather on some height alone with her and their hands
touched over a photograph. "The Man on the Lion." There was something
worthy of his feeling for her!
Meanwhile, for the first part of the afternoon one must put up with the
Galleon family.
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