Talboys. “In the boat.”
“In the boat? What boat? There's no boat.”
“I have asked her to sail with me from —— in a boat; there is a very nice little lugger-rigged one. I am having the seats padded and stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white and gold.”
“Bravo! Cleopatra's galley.”
“I assure you she looks forward to it with pleasure; she guesses why I want to get her into that boat. She hesitated at first, but at last consented with a look—a conscious look; I can hardly describe it.”
“There is no need,” cried Fountain. “I know it; the jade turned all eyelashes.”
“That is rather exaggerated, but still—”
“But still I have described it—to a hair. Ha! ha!”
Talboys (gravely). “Well, yes.”
Mr. Talboys, I am bound to own, was accurate. During the last day or two Lucy had taken a turn; she had been bewitching; she had flattered him with tact, but deliciously; had consulted him as to which of his beautiful dresses she should wear at the masked ball, and, when pressed to have a sail in the boat he was fitting for her, she ended by giving a demure assent.