— XIII —THE TWO FRIENDS
Mrs. Thurston looked at Mr. Seymour, and Mr. Seymour looked at her; each seemed to be amused by something each perceived. They were tête-à-tête in the sitting-room of the gentleman’s flat, a nondescript apartment, furnished in a fashion which pointed to an occupant of Bohemian tastes. One felt, as one observed him, that it was just the sort of room in which Mr. Seymour ought to be very much at home; and, indeed, he evidently was. He had his coat off; his body was in an easy-chair; his feet, stretched out in front of him, were on a small chair; on a third chair, conveniently close to his right hand, was something in a tall tumbler; between his lips was a short black clay pipe. A clay pipe appeared to represent, to him, the acme of comfort. Abroad, in public, in soci
