"Maybe I'd better open two?"
"Yes," said Margaret; "that would be much better."
But Penrod watched Mr. Blakely open two windows to their widest,
and betrayed no anxiety. His remarks upon the relative
temperatures of the sawdust-box and the library had been made
merely for the sake of creating sound in a silent place. When the
windows had been open for several minutes, Penrod's placidity,
though gloomy, denoted anything but discomfort from the draft,
which was powerful, the day being windy.
It was Mr. Blakely's turn to break a silence, and he did it so
unexpectedly that Margaret started. He sneezed.
"Perhaps--" Margaret began, but paused apprehensively.
"Perhaps-per-per--" Her apprehensions became more and more
poignant; her eyes seemed fixed upon some incredible disaster;
she appeared to inflate while the catastrophe she foresaw became
more and more imminent. All at once she collapsed, but the power
decorum had over her was attested by the mildness of her sneeze
after so threatening a prelude.
"Perhaps I'd better put one of the windows down," Mr. Blakely
suggested.
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