His family welcomed his safe return, visitor and all, with undisguised
relief and admiration. A small boy appeared at the corner of the house,
and then disappeared hastily again. "Daddy's got back all right at
last," they heard him shouting to unseen hearers.


Section 8

Mr. Direck, though he was a little incommoded by the suppression of his
story about Robinson--for when he had begun a thing he liked to finish
it--found Mr. Britling's household at once thoroughly British, quite
un-American and a little difficult to follow. It had a quality that at
first he could not define at all. Compared with anything he had ever
seen in his life before it struck him as being--he found the word at
last--sketchy. For instance, he was introduced to nobody except his
hostess, and she was indicated to him by a mere wave of Mr. Britling's
hand. "That's Edith," he said, and returned at once to his car to put it
away. Mrs. Britling was a tall, freckled woman with pretty bright brown
hair and preoccupied brown eyes. She welcomed him with a handshake, and
then a wonderful English parlourmaid--she at least was according to
expectations--took his grip-sack and guided him to his room. "Lunch,
sir," she said, "is outside," and closed the door and left him to that
and a towel-covered can of hot water.

It was a square-looking old red-brick house he had come to, very
handsome in a simple Georgian fashion, with a broad lawn before it and
great blue cedar trees, and a drive that came frankly up to the front
door and then went off with Mr. Britling and the car round to unknown
regions at the back. The centre of the house was a big airy hall,
oak-panelled, warmed in winter only by one large fireplace and abounding