“I do mean it. She is charming. She will make you a good wife. Take care that you make her a good husband.”
At that, the bride-to-be gave him her hand to kiss. “You also are very charming,” she said in rapid French, “and I hope that some day it will be my turn to wish you good fortune.” She glanced at Madame Ghita’s face, and suddenly sprang to her feet and ran around the table and kissed her. “You are a darling!” she whispered in her ear; “a big, big darling, the dearest of the world!”
Madame held her close for a moment, and then sent her back to her seat.
“You must be sensible,” she said.
“Oh, yes, I shall be sensible, do not fear,” Miss Fayard assured her. “And I shall try to be, as you say, monsieur, a good wife. But he has need of control, has he not? A strong hand, hein?”
“Truly,” agreed Selden; “a very strong hand. Do not hesitate to apply it, mademoiselle, right from the beginning!”
“See here,” protested Davis, “don’t talk so fast. Or speak English.”
“I also learn ze Eengleesh,” laughed Miss Fayard. “Oh, already I spik heem verree well. But ees eet not ridicule, ce nom-la—Madame Davees!”
“Well, it is going to be yours,” said Davis grimly, “so you’ll have to make the best of it. You understand,” he went on to Selden, “this is between ourselves as yet. We’ve got to square things with Mother before it’s announced.”
“She will never consent, never!” cried Miss Fayard, lapsing into her native tongue.