"That you've been fooling me!" the girl interrupted, a faint smile at the corners of her lips. "Do you know, sometimes I suspected that you weren't in earnest! And then one day I saw your wife—and I wasn't sure!"
"Good morning!" Mr. Bundercombe said severely. "Come along, Paul!"
CHAPTER XV—LORD PORTHONING'S LESSON
Mr. Bundercombe laid his hand compellingly on my arm. "Who's the wizened-up little insect, with a snarl on his face?" he inquired of me earnestly.
My slight impulse of irritation at such a description applied to one of my wedding guests passed when I looked up and saw the person to whom Mr. Bundercombe had directed my attention. I recognized the adequacy of the wording."
"That," I replied, "is the Earl of Porthoning."
"Kind of connection, isn't he?" Mr. Bundercombe inquired.
I nodded.
"His son married my sister."
Mr. Bundercombe regarded him with a certain wistfulness which I did not at that moment understand. Just then Lord Porthoning made his way toward us. As I watched him approach I realized more than ever the justice of Mr. Bundercombe's description. He was undersized, bent nearly double, and on his wizened face and shining out of his narrow black eyes was an indescribable expression of malevolence. Even the smile with which he greeted me had something unpleasant in it.