In the early days
each shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the third
and fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for the
fashionable season.
A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form one
side of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slave
quarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which had
housed the young men of the family so that they could come and go at
will without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. These
small rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From the
balcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one could
look down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer met
them with outstretched hands after they had given their names to his
dark, languid young clerk.
"But this is good of you!" Rene LeFleur beamed on them impartially. He
was a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spoke
in perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature,
gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all its
works. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val was
to sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking Rene LeFleur almost
before his hand gripped Val's.
"Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see you
here! And this," he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valerius
both you and Mr.
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