‘There’s a compliment that such an old wife ought to make the most of, Amy,’ said Guy, looking at her with a certain proud satisfaction in Philip’s admiration. ‘It is high time to leave off calling you a bride, after your splendid appearance at the party at Munich, in all your whiteness and orange-flowers.’
‘That was quite enough of it,’ said Amy, smiling.
‘Not at all,’ said Philip; ‘you have all your troubles in the visiting line to come, when you go home.’
‘Ah! you know the people, and will be a great help to us,’ said Amy, and Guy was much pleased to hear her taking a voluntary share in the invitation, knowing as he did that she only half liked it.
‘Thank you; we shall see,’ replied Philip.
‘Yes; we shall see when you are fit for the journey, and it will not be long before we can begin, by short stages. You have got on wonderfully in the last few days. How do you think he is looking, Amy?’ finished Guy, with an air of triumph, that was rather amusing, considering what a pale skeleton face he was regarding with so much satisfaction.
‘I dare say he is looking much mended,’ said Amy; ‘but you must not expect me to see it.’
‘You can’t get a compliment for me, Guy,’ said Philip. ‘I was a good deal surprised when Arnaud brought me the glass this morning.’
‘It is a pity you did not see yourself a week ago,’ said Guy, shaking his head drolly.
‘It is certain, as the French doctor says, that monsieur has a very vigorous constitution.’