Upon his heels followed Mr. Ferrier, who hurried to the
fire, rubbing his hands and complaining of the cold.
"I never felt this house cold before. Has anything happened to your
_calorifere_? These rooms are too big! By-the-way, Oliver"--Mr. Ferrier
turned his back to the blaze, and looked round him--"when are you going
to reform this one?"
Oliver surveyed it.
"Of course I should like nothing better than to make a bonfire of it
all! But mother--"
"Of course--of course! Ah, well, perhaps when you marry, my dear boy!
Another reason for making haste!"
The older man turned a laughing eye on his companion. Marsham merely
smiled, a little vaguely, without reply. Ferrier observed him, then
began abstractedly to study the carpet. After a moment he looked up--
"I like your little friend, Oliver--I like her particularly!"
"Miss Mallory? Yes, I saw you had been making acquaintance. Well?"
His voice affected a light indifference, but hardly succeeded.
"A very attractive personality!--fresh and womanly--no nonsense--heart
enough for a dozen. But all the same the intellect is hungry, and wants
feeding. No one will ever succeed with her, Oliver, who forgets she has
a brain.
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