The Professors House | Page 9

people saw only Rosamond's smooth black head and white throat, and the red of her
curved lips that was like the duskiness of dark, heavy-scented roses.
Kathleen, the younger daughter, looked even younger than she was -- had the slender,
undeveloped figure then very much in vogue. She was pale, with light hazel eyes, and her
hair was hazel-coloured with distinctly green glints to it. To her father there was
something very charming in the curious shadows her wide cheekbones cast over her
cheeks, and in the spirited tilt of her head. Her figure in profile, he used to tell her, looked
just like an interrogation point.
Mrs. St. Peter frankly liked having a son-in-law who could tot up acquaintances with Sir
Edgar from the Soudan to Alaska. Scott, she saw, was going to be sulky because Sir
Edgar and Marsellus were talking about things beyond his little circle of interests. She
made no effort to draw him into the conversation, but let him prowl like a restless leopard
among the books. The Professor was amiable, but quiet. When the second maid came to
the door and signalled that dinner was ready -- dinner was signalled, not announced --
Mrs. St. Peter took Sir Edgar and guided him to his seat at her right, while the others
found their usual places. After they had finished the soup, she had some difficulty in
summoning the little maid to take away the plates, and explained to her guest that the
electric bell, under the table, wasn't connected as yet -- they had been in the new house
less than a week, and the trials of building were not over.
"Oh? Then if I had happened along a fortnight ago I shouldn't have found you here? But
it must be very interesting, building you own house and arranging it as you like," he
responded.
Marsellus, silenced during the soup, came in with a warm smile and a slight shrug of the
shoulders. "Building is the word with us, Sir Edgar, my -- oh, isn't it! My wife and I are

in the throes of it. We are building a country house, rather an ambitious affair, out on the
wooded shores of Lake Michigan. Perhaps you would like to run out in my car and see it?
What are your engagements for to-morrow? I can take you out in half an hour, and we
can lunch at the Country Club. We have a magnificent site; primeval forest behind us and
the lake in front, with our own beach -- my father-in-law, you must know, is a formidable
swimmer. We've been singularly fortunate in architect, -- a young Norwegian, trained in
Paris. He's doing us a Norwegian manor house, very harmonious with its setting, just the
right thing for rugged pine woods and high headlands.
Sir Edgar seemed most willing to make this excursion, and allowed Marsellus to fix an
hour, greatly to the surprise of McGregor, whose look at his wife implied that he
entertained serious doubts whether this baronet with walrus moustaches amounted to
much after all.
The engagement made, Louie turned to Mrs. St. Peter. "And won't you come too, Dearest?
You haven't been out since we got our wonderful wrought-iron door fittings from
Chicago. We found just the right sort of hinge and latch, Sir Edgar, and had all the others
copied from it. None of your Colonial glass knobs for us!"
Mrs. St. Peter sighed. Scott and Kathleen had just glass-knobbed their new bungalow
throughout, yet she knew Louie didn't mean to hurt their feelings -- it was his heedless
enthusiasm that made him often say untactful things.
"We've been extremely fortunate in getting all the little things right," Louie was gladly
confiding to Sir Edgar. "There's really not a flaw in the conception. I can say that,
because I'm a mere on- looker; the whole thing's been done by the Norwegian and my
wife and Mrs. St. Peter. And," he put his hand down affectionately upon Mrs. St. Peter's
bare arm, " and we've named our place! I've already ordered the house stationary. No,
Rosamond, I won't keep our little secret any longer. It will please your father, as well as
your mother. We call our place 'Outland,' Sir Edgar."
He dropped the announcement and drew back. His mother-in-law rose to it -- Spilling
could scarcely be expected to understand.
"How splendid, Louie! A real inspiration."
"Yes, isn't it? I knew that would go to your hearts." The Professor had expressed his
emotion only by lifting his heavy, sharply uptwisted eyebrow. "let me explain, Sir
Edgar," Marsellus went on eagerly. "We have named our place for Tom Outland, a
brilliant young American scientist and inventor, who was killed in Flanders, fighting with
the Foreign Legion, the second year of the