"Come in!" said a rather sharp voice. Alvina entered on the widow's
heels.
"I've brought you the cough stuff," said the widow. "And Miss
Huff'n's come as well, to see how you was."
Four young men were sitting round the table in their shirt-sleeves,
with bottles of Bass. There was much cigarette smoke. By the fire,
which was burning brightly, sat a plump, pale woman with dark bright
eyes and finely-drawn eyebrows: she might be any age between forty
and fifty. There were grey threads in her tidy black hair. She was
neatly dressed in a well-made black dress with a small lace collar.
There was a slight look of self-commiseration on her face. She had a
cigarette between her drooped fingers.
She rose as if with difficulty, and held out her plump hand, on
which four or five rings showed. She had dropped the cigarette
unnoticed into the hearth.
"How do you do," she said. "I didn't catch your name." Madame's
voice was a little plaintive and plangent now, like a bronze reed
mournfully vibrating.
"Alvina Houghton," said Alvina.
"Daughter of him as owns the thee-etter where you're goin' to act,"
interposed the widow.
"Oh yes! Yes! I see. Miss Houghton. I didn't know how it was said.
Huff-ton--yes? Miss Houghton. I've got a bad cold on my chest--"
laying her plump hand with the rings on her plump bosom. "But let me
introduce you to my young men--" A wave of the plump hand, whose
forefinger was very slightly cigarette-stained, towards the table.
The four young men had risen, and stood looking at Alvina and
Madame. The room was small, rather bare, with horse-hair and
white-crochet antimacassars and a linoleum floor. The table also was
covered with a brightly-patterned American oil-cloth, shiny but
clean. A naked gas-jet hung over it. For furniture, there were just
chairs, arm-chairs, table, and a horse-hair antimacassar-ed sofa.
Yet the little room seemed very full--full of people, young men with
smart waistcoats and ties, but without coats.
"That is Max," said Madame. "I shall tell you only their names, and
not their family names, because that is easier for you--"
In the meantime Max had bowed. He was a tall Swiss with almond eyes
and a flattish face and a rather stiff, ramrod figure.
"And that is Louis--" Louis bowed gracefully. He was a Swiss
Frenchman, moderately tall, with prominent cheekbones and a wing
of glossy black hair falling on his temple.
"And that is Géoffroi--Geoffrey--" Geoffrey made his bow--a
broad-shouldered, watchful, taciturn man from Alpine France.
"And that is Francesco--Frank--" Francesco gave a faint curl of his
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