And--what next? Curious, is it not? I had a great deal
more to say: and I appear to have quite forgotten it. Do you mind
touching the bell? In that corner. Yes. Thank you."
I rang; and a new servant noiselessly made his appearance--a
foreigner, with a set smile and perfectly brushed hair--a valet
every inch of him.
"Louis," said Mr. Fairlie, dreamily dusting the tips of his
fingers with one of the tiny brushes for the coins, "I made some
entries in my tablettes this morning. Find my tablettes. A
thousand pardons, Mr. Hartright, I'm afraid I bore you."
As he wearily closed his eyes again, before I could answer, and as
he did most assuredly bore me, I sat silent, and looked up at the
Madonna and Child by Raphael. In the meantime, the valet left the
room, and returned shortly with a little ivory book. Mr. Fairlie,
after first relieving himself by a gentle sigh, let the book drop
open with one hand, and held up the tiny brush with the other, as
a sign to the servant to wait for further orders.
"Yes. Just so!" said Mr. Fairlie, consulting the tablettes.
"Louis, take down that portfolio." He pointed, as he spoke, to
several portfolios placed near the window, on mahogany stands.
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