That same evening, as Lennox was leaving the club, Mrs. Austen, rising
from the dinner-table, preceded Margaret into the drawing-room and
looked at the clock, a prostrate nymph, balancing a dial on the soles of
her feet. At the figures on the dial, the nymph pointed a finger.
From the clock Mrs. Austen turned and exclaimed at the windows which she
had already examined. "The jardinieres have not yet been attended to! It
is inconceivable!"
Margaret, who had seated herself, said: "You might send for the
manager."
"He would only keep me waiting and then expect me to tell him what I
wanted. He ought to know. Besides, I might have forgotten. It is very
tiresome."