There was a faint air of resentment
and protest between them. As if Sir Richmond had been in some way rude
to it.
The cap of the radiator was adorned with a little brass figure of a
flying Mercury. Frozen in a sprightly attitude, its stiff bound and its
fixed heavenward stare was highly suggestive of a forced and tactful
disregard of current unpleasantness.
Nothing was said, however, to confirm or dispel this suspicion of a
disagreement between the man and the car. Sir Richmond directed and
assisted Dr. Martineau's man to adjust the luggage at the back, and Dr.
Martineau watched the proceedings from his dignified front door. He was
wearing a suit of fawn tweeds, a fawn Homburg hat and a light Burberry,
with just that effect of special preparation for a holiday which betrays
the habitually busy man. Sir Richmond's brown gauntness was, he noted,
greatly set off by his suit of grey. There had certainly been some sort
of quarrel. Sir Richmond was explaining the straps to Dr. Martineau's
butler with the coldness a man betrays when he explains the uncongenial
habits of some unloved intimate. And when the moment came to start and
the little engine did not immediately respond to the electric starter,
he said: "Oh! COME up, you--!"
His voice sank at the last word as though it was an entirely
confidential communication to the little car.
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