“Was this a favourite cat?”
She pouted.
“No, sir, a dog.”
“And here’s your husband?”
“No, another dog.”
“H’m! You can get a likeness, indeed.”
My lord, slamming down his book somewhat violently, got to his feet with a haste which seemed to belie the leisureliness of the stretch and yawn which followed.
“Am I not to have my place among the favoured?” says Hamilton.
“Would you like it?” questioned the artful rogue. “I should be hard put to’t to portray so perfect a gentleman. They have not come my way of late. What hath happened to your brooch, cousin? Stay while I refasten it for you.”
He lifted his chin obediently, while she manipulated, with deft, slender fingers, the jewel at his cravat. My lord, with a quick, loud clearing of his throat, started and came across the room.