“What is it?” inquired she, elevating her eyebrows. She had always
disapproved my sense of humor.
“So he’s been making love to you--eh?” said I.
“No, indeed!” cried she, bridling haughtily. “He’d not dare. But I saw
he was beginning to presume in that direction, and I checked him.”
“Oh, he’s harmless,” said I. “Keep friendly with him. He’d be the very
person to settle you in Paris. He lived there several years.”
“It would cause scandal,” said she. “If you can’t go, I can do well
enough alone, I’m sure.”
“I’d only be in the way,” said I. “Let me know when you wish to go, and
I’ll try to arrange it. But I can’t get away for at least three months.”
“That would be too late,” said she. “Margot must be started at once.
She hasn’t any too much time before her coming out. Also, Mrs. Armitage
is sailing in two weeks, and she would be a great help.”
“Then you have decided to sail in two weeks?” said I, adding before
she had time to get beyond a gathering frown of protest, “That suits
me. I’ll make my own plans accordingly.”
And in two weeks they sailed, I watching the big ship creep out of dock
and drop slowly down the river. Armitage and I drove away from the pier
together. We were in such high spirits that we had champagne with our
lunch.