"What dam cheek!" he said, in his old way. He hasn't used any "ornaments
to conversation" since we have been--oh, I want to say it--engaged!
Then his eyes flashed. "Christopher had better be careful of himself! He
will have to be answerable to me now."
"Do be prudent, Evangeline dear," Lady Merrenden said, gayly, "or you will
have Robert breaking the head of every man in the street who even glances
at you. He is frantically jealous."
"Yes, I know I am," said Robert, rearranging the tie on my blouse with
that air of _sans gêne_ and possession that pleases me so.
I belong to him now, and if my tie isn't as he likes he has a perfect
right to retie it, no matter who is there. That is his attitude--not the
_least_ ceremony or stuff, everything perfectly simple and natural.
It does make things agreeable. When I was, "Miss Travers" and he "Lord
Robert," he was always respectful and unfamiliar--except that one night
when rage made him pinch my finger. But now that I am _his_ Evangeline and
he is _my_ Robert (thus he explained it to me in our paradise hour), I am
his queen and his darling, but at the same time his possession and
belonging, just the same as his watch or his coat--I adore it--and it does
not make me the least "uppish," as one might have thought.
"Come, come, children," Lady Merrenden said at last, "we shall all be
late."
So we started, dropping Robert at Vavasour House on our way. It is a
splendid place, down one of those side streets looking on the Green Park,
and has a small garden that side. I had never been down to the little
square where it is before, but, of course, every one can see its splendid
frontage from St. James's Park, though I had never realized it was
Vavasour House.
"Good luck!" whispered Lady Merrenden as Robert got out, and then we drove
on.
Several people were lunching at Carlton House Terrace: cabinet ministers,
and a clever novelist, and the great portrait painter, besides two or
three charming women--one as pretty and smart as Lady Ver, but the others
more ordinary looking, only so well mannered. No real frumps like the
Montgomeries. We had a delightful lunch, and I tried to talk nicely and do
my best to please my dear hostess. When they had all left I think we both
began to feel excited, and long apprehensively for the arrival of Robert.
So we talked of the late guests.
"It amuses my husband to see a number of different kinds of people," she
said; "but we had nothing very exciting to-day, I must confess, though
sometimes the authors and authoresses bore me, and they are often very
disappointing--one does not any longer care to read their books after
seeing them."