"And that accounts, I dare say, for their being of such a crooked
and cantankerous nature. They're a wonderful race women are; and
for what Inscrutable reason it has pleased Providence to create
them - "
The opening of the door brought to a sudden end this little touch
of moralizing, and a wrinkled old porter thrust out a very
withered and unlovely face.
"La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without
ceremony.
The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,
Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed
in the same style by Sir Norman.
"You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude
of this place," observed that young gentleman, as they passed
into a room at the head of the stairs.
"I ought to be; I've been here often enough," said Ormiston.
"This is the common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La
Masque. That old bag of bones who let us in has gone to announce
us."
Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It
was a common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished
black oak, slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old
Flemish paintings on the walls; a large, round table in the
centre of the floor, on which lay a pair of the old musical
instruments called "virginals.
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