Marianne, The Matchbox, And The Malachite Mouse - Plot & Excerpts
Cocktails, he said, would be served at the first bell. The second bell would be struck ten minutes before dinner was served, just time to get down to the drawing rooms. If Mondragon had brought a gift, it could be put with the others in the library. ‘Green asked me to tell you, sir. It would be wise to avoid the meat pie.’ ‘Thank Green for me. I always avoid meat pie. So anonymous, don’t you think? Meat pie and mince meat and paté. So subject to abuse.’ ‘Exactly Green’s thought, my lord.’ ‘Not “my lord,”’ said Mondragon abstractedly. ‘I may be addressed as “Your Excellency.”’ The manservant, a lean and pallid creature given to sudden twitches and starts, bowed. ‘Green also said, Your Excellency, that he would see to that small matter of yours following dinner.’ The speaker did not look precisely human, Mondragon thought. Not precisely. Something about the face was odd. Also, there was something repellently obsequious in his tone. Still, he replied politely.
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