Here I make a little moue at my husband, who is standing rather behind his sister, which he returns with interest "How do you know I have not found you out long ago? It is my belief I married you for my sins. Harriet, I leave her now in your hands; reform her—if you can."
"Go and look after James," says Lady Handcock "He always gets into mischief when left by himself. I want to make friends with Phyllis."
By and by Miss Beatoun comes in, and I get through another introduction.
She is hardly as tall as I am, and wonderfully pretty. No need to disbelieve the report that last season all men raved of her. Her eyes are large and dark and soft, her hair a very, very light brown, though hardly golden, and guiltless of dye. A tiny black mole, somewhat like a Queen Anne's patch, grows close to her left ear.
As I look at her, I decide hastily she is more than pretty—she is attractive. Her whole face is full of light; the very corners of her mouth express unuttered laughter; it is altogether the most /riante, kissable, lovable face conceivable. Her bands and feet are fairy-like in their proportions.
Nevertheless, her eyes, though unusually soft, betray the coquette; they cannot entirely conceal the mischievous longing for mastery that lurks in their velvet depths.
"Is she not young, Bebe?" asks Lady Handcock, indicating me.
"Very. Much younger even than I dared to hope. Of course"—to me—"we all heard you were quite a girl; yet that did not reassure me, as it can be said of most brides, and as a rule they are a disagreeable lot. But you have forgotten to give yourself airs, and that is so novel and delightful—so many young women will go in for that sort of thing. I feel," says Miss Beatoun, gayly, "I am going to have a delicious autumn, and be very happy."
"I hope so," I answer, earnestly. "Do you know, Lady Handcock, I quite dreaded your coming?—it kept me awake several nights, thinking perhaps you would be cold and difficult, and would not like me; and now I am so relieved—you cannot fancy what a weight is off my mind."
I say this with such evident feeling that they both laugh heartily, and Bebe gives it as her opinion that I am a "regular darling."