Explore "The Mystery of the Four Fingers" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Money can do most things, even in the matter of furnishing a large house with competent servants, and by six o'clock Vera had contrived for the domestic machine to run a little more smoothly. At any rate, she was in a position now to provide Fenwick with something in the shape of a respectable dinner on his return from town.
It was about a quarter to eight when he put in an appearance, and for the first time for some days he changed into evening dress for the chief meal of the day. He appeared to be as morose and savage as he had been in the morning, in fact even more so if that were possible. He answered Vera's questions curtly, so that she fell back upon herself and ate her soup in silence. And yet, though Fenwick was so quiet, it seemed to Vera that he was regarding her with a deep distrust, so that she found herself flushing under his gaze. He put his spoon down presently, and pointed with his hand to Vera's swollen fingers.