"Oh! not the dressmaker? and it wasn't your own idea? I can only think of one other person. Do congratulate Wilton from me on his success as a designer."
"Chetwode! if I did ask him to design it, it was so that you should be pleased with the dress."
He smiled. "Quite so. And I am."
"Oh, won't you come and fetch me?"
"It's quite impossible. How late shall you stay?"
"I'll come back just when you like."
"Oh, enjoy yourself, dear. I'm going to stop at home."
He seemed to have regained the equanimity that for a moment he seemed to have lost.
Driving along, Felicity thought, "Perhaps if Chetwode could be a shade jealous of Bertie, it might be a good thing. Still, that sort of thing is so commonplace. We oughtn't to have to descend to it."
Surely Chetwode, who never went by the opinion of others, who absolutely judged for himself, and for whom general success by no means raised the value of his choice, could not care a shade more for his wife because she was admired by Wilton, and would care less for her if he did not think her incapable of admiring any one but himself.