Gradually Haggard raised his eyes; they rested on his wife, they took her in from head to foot, and seemed to appraise each of her numerous points. The husband's countenance was lighted up by a pleased expression.
"By Jove! Georgie," he said, "people are quite right; you are an uncommonly fine woman."
He kissed her.
It was the kiss of proprietorship, similar to the appreciative pat he would have given to a prize dog or a valuable horse that was his own property.
Yes, Georgie loved the man, and looked up at him with wistful, trusting eyes. She was his, body and soul.
But the door opens, and a peal of merry laughter caused Haggard and his wife to subside into seats on either side of the fireplace.
"Oh, Georgie! I'm so sorry you missed it, it's been such fun, and Mr. Sleek has been so attentive. I really think the two girls thought I was setting my cap at their father. What with the procession outside, and the farce indoors, we've had a delightful morning," cried Lucy Warrender, as she entered the room.
"I fear it was rather a tragedy to poor little Sleek," said Lord Spunyarn, who followed her; "a tiger when a-lashing of his tail was nothing to Sleek. I shall never forget the look he gave me after lunch."
"When inflamed with love and wine, you know," said Lucy pertly. "Behold his scalp."
Lucy triumphantly extended an enormous formal bouquet. Alas, for poor little Sleek! his flowers were carelessly tossed upon the table.