He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. ” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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