'May I choose this place?' said Twemlow, and sat down by Leonora in the other corner of the Chesterfield and looked round. She could see that he was admiring the spacious room and herself in her beautiful afternoon dress, and the pensive and the sprightly comeliness of her daughters. His wandering eyes returned to hers, and their appreciation pleased her and increased her charm.
'I am expecting my husband every minute,' she said.
'Papa's gone out for a walk with Bran,' Milly added.
'Oh! Bran!' He repeated the word in a voice that humorously appealed for further elucidation, and both Ethel and Harry laughed.
'The St. Bernard, you know,' Milly explained, annoyed.
'I wouldn't be surprised if that was a St. Bernard out there,' he said pointing to the French window. 'What a fine fellow! And what a fine garden!'
Bran was to be seen nosing low down at the window; and alternately lifting two huge white paws in his futile anxiety to enter the room.
'Then I dare say John is in the garden,' Leonora exclaimed, with sudden animation, glad to be able to dismiss the faint uneasy suspicion which had begun to form in her mind that John meant after all to avoid Arthur Twemlow. 'Would you like to look at the garden?' she demanded, half rising, and lifting her brows to a pretty invitation.
'Very much indeed,' he replied, and he jumped up with the impulsiveness of a boy.
'It's quite warm,' she said, and thanked Harry for opening the window for them.