Madge slightly entrenched herself at this.
“I really haven’t studied my own expression,” she said. “Women are supposed to use mirrors a good deal, but they use them, I assure you, to see if their hair is tidy.”
“Your’s never is quite,” said he. “And it suits you admirably.”
Again the gravel sounded crisply below their feet, without the overscore of human voices.
Then he spoke again.
“And please accept my portrait of you as my wedding present to you—and Philip,” he said with boyish abruptness.
Madge for the moment was too utterly surprised to speak.
“But, Mr. Dundas,” she said at length, “I can’t—I—how can I?”
He laughed.
“Well, I must send it to Philip, then,” he said, “if you won’t receive it. But—why should you not? You are going to marry my oldest friend. I can’t send him an ivory toothbrush.”