No more do I.
That's settled. Mr. Emerson, if you could come with your son we
should be so pleased."
He thanked her, but the walk sounded rather far; he could only
potter about in these days.
She turned to George: "And then he wants to give up his house to
the Miss Alans."
"I know," said George, and put his arm round his father's neck.
The kindness that Mr. Beebe and Lucy had always known to exist in
him came out suddenly, like sunlight touching a vast landscape--a
touch of the morning sun? She remembered that in all his
perversities he had never spoken against affection.
Miss Bartlett approached.
"You know our cousin, Miss Bartlett," said Mrs. Honeychurch
pleasantly. "You met her with my daughter in Florence."
"Yes, indeed!" said the old man, and made as if he would come out
of the garden to meet the lady. Miss Bartlett promptly got into
the victoria. Thus entrenched, she emitted a formal bow. It was
the pension Bertolini again, the dining-table with the decanters
of water and wine.
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