"A deuced becoming dress too; but it's not so fine as what you had on
yesterday."
"No, of Course not; there are degrees of best dress. Yesterday's was my
_very_ best go-to-luncheon dress, and must last me a whole year."
"A year! By Jove! And you always look well dressed! You are a wonderful
woman! Now I must be off. Mrs. Burnett says she will send the carriage
for you on Thursday. We drive down to Twickenham."
"Oh, thank you, Colonel Ormonde! I am sure I am indebted to you for that
lift," said Mrs. Frederic, while she thought, "He might have driven me
down himself."
"_Au revoir_, then. Always hard to tear myself away from such a charming
little witch as you are."
Ormonde kissed her hand and departed.
"Jolly, plucky little woman," he thought, as he walked toward the
Bayswater Road, looking for a hansom. "Just the sort to save a man
trouble, and get full value out of a sovereign." He continued to muse on
the wonderful discovery he had made of a woman perfectly planned,
according to man's ideal--sweet, yielding, tenderly sympathetic, willing
and capable to ward off all annoyances from her master, full of feeling
for _his_ troubles, and not to be moved by her own to sad looks,
unbecoming tears, or downcast spirits--all softness to him, all
bristling sharpness to the rest of the world.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73