“Come, Geoff, you had better be off if you are going.”
“Oh, I’m exhausted,” replied Geoffrey. “I really could not think of taking any more exercise to-day.”
“But you promised,” urged his cousin emphatically.
“Promised, did I?” he replied, rising languidly and deliberately arranging a cushion behind his head as he settled himself into the snuggest corner of the sofa. “Oh, Alice is accustomed to my promises by this time; she knows they are like piecrust—made to be broken. Besides, Alice has a young and active husband. Pedestrian exercise is good for these Anglo-Indians; let him go.”
“But, Geoffrey——”
“‘But me no buts;’ I won’t stir till the first bell rings, if then. That girl has already run me off my legs, and if she is mad enough to start for a two-miles’ walk at this time of night, I am not. I prefer lying here”—shutting his eyes—“and thinking of dinner.”
“Well, Geoffrey,” exclaimed Reginald indignantly, taking up his hat, “if you won’t go, I must. Where does this sick girl live?”
“Go out by the lower avenue, turn to the left, and follow your nose—it’s straight, isn’t it?—till you come to a plantation; go through that, and you will see a field, and in the field a cottage. And you had better look sharp, my dear boy; it’s getting late.”
As the door closed, Geoffrey started up and began capering about the room.
“Did I not do that splendidly?” he asked, stopping and rubbing his hands. “Haven’t I arranged for a nice little conjugal tête-à-tête, and isn’t he just swearing at me! Ten to one they will have a battle-royal, but anything is better than this armed peace; the way in which they avoid each other is a most beautiful study in tactics.”