He had on his
shabby little overcoat, with the collar up, but was enjoying his walk.
It was interrupted at last by the appearance of his mother at the end of
the sala. She beckoned him to come to her, and while Pemberton saw him,
complaisant, pass down the long vista and over the damp false marble, he
wondered what was in the air. Mrs. Moreen said a word to the boy and
made him go into the room she had quitted. Then, having closed the door
after him, she directed her steps swiftly to Pemberton. There was
something in the air, but his wildest flight of fancy wouldn't have
suggested what it proved to be. She signified that she had made a
pretext to get Morgan out of the way, and then she enquired--without
hesitation--if the young man could favour her with the loan of three
louis. While, before bursting into a laugh, he stared at her with
surprise, she declared that she was awfully pressed for the money; she
was desperate for it--it would save her life.
"Dear lady, c'est trop fort!" Pemberton laughed in the manner and with
the borrowed grace of idiom that marked the best colloquial, the best
anecdotic, moments of his friends themselves.
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