"He has a photograph of yours in his cigarette-case; another in his
pocket-book; another in his desk; a fourth on his bedroom mantelpiece."
"That's where my photographs have vanished to! Now I understand! Let me
inform you, Mrs Spencer, that if, as you say, your son has my
photographs, he has stolen them. Yes, stolen them--without asking my
permission, and without my knowledge--like any common thief."
I do not deny that I lost my temper, but who, under the circumstances,
would not have done? We had a brisk discussion. When we parted it was
with a mutually-expressed hope that it was to meet no more.
Soon afterwards I went out to get some stamps. Old Bunting, who keeps
the general shop and the post-office, received me with what he perhaps
meant for an ingratiating simper.
"I hear, miss, that we're to have lively doings up at the Assembly
Rooms; real old-fashioned ballet dancing and all sorts of things."
"I don't know what you mean, Mr Bunting."