Part 12 (2/2)

I do not like his hands; I cannot say why; they are neither big nor ill-shapen, but there is something fat and feminine about the fingers.

I dare say, underneath, he could be like Augustus.

Lady Tilchester is devoted to him, and he has the greatest admiration and respect for her. Their conversation is most interesting.

Some of the other men are very nice, and several of them almost come up to grandmamma's criterion of the perfect male--that he should ”look like a man and behave like a gentleman.”

The women are very smartly dressed all the time, but they do not show a great sense of the fitness of things. Only Lady Grenellen and Lady Tilchester are always adorable and attractive in anything and in any way.

I believe they do not love one another very much, although they are quite friendly; one somehow can see it in their eyes.

The Tilchester boy, who is thirteen, has just gone to Eton, but will soon be home for the holidays; the little girl is at the sea. So I have not seen either of them.

The whole house here is so beautifully done; there is no fuss, and everything is exactly where one wants to find it. I shall be sorry when we leave.

Just as we had begun luncheon to-day, Sir Antony Thornhirst came in, and, after a casual greeting to every one, sat down near me.

He seems quite at home here, and as if he were accustomed to turning up unannounced in this way.

I felt such a queer, quick beating in my heart. I suppose because among all these strangers he was some one I knew before.

”So you decided not to cut the Gordian knot,” he said, presently, as if we were continuing the discussion of some argument we had had a moment before.

He bridged in an instant the great gulf since my wedding. This _sang froid_ stupefied me. I found nothing to say.

He continued:

”Do you know, I have heard since that to give any one a knife cuts friends.h.i.+p, and brings bad luck and separation, and numbers of dreadful things. So you and I are now declared enemies, I suppose.

Shall we go and throw the little ill-omen in the lake after lunch?”

”No; I will not part with my knife; I find it very useful,” I said, in a _bete_ way.

”Antony,” called out Lord Tilchester, ”you have arrived in the nick of time to save Babykins from turning into a hospital nurse. She thinks the costume becoming, and threatens to leave us for the wounded heroes. Cannot you restrain her?”

”How?” asked Sir Antony, helping himself to some chicken curry.

”Really excellent curry your chef makes, Tilchester.”

”Don't tell him about it, Reggie,” lisped Mrs. Parton-Mills. ”The unfeeling creature is only thinking of his food.”

”You seem to have all the qualities for an ideal convalescent nurse,”

said Sir Antony, with an air of detaching himself with difficulty from the contemplation of the curry.

”And those qualities are--?” asked Lord Tilchester.

”Princ.i.p.ally stimulating,” and he selected a special chutney from the various kinds a footman was handing.

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